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Miriam did not often become disoriented. Kim kept a steady, clipped pace, leading them down a path not quite wild, but certainly unkempt. Miriam couldn’t be sure she’d be able to follow it without a guide, certainly not without any knowledge that the path existed. The dense trees, creeping moss, and cloying underbrush created the illusion of an endless abyss of green, stretching unbroken in every direction. Not exactly the type of woods to which she had become accustomed, but then, Miriam trusted herself to adapt to any situation.
There was a path. Sort of. But often, Miriam didn’t see it until they’d already stepped foot onto it. She took in every nuance of the forest. Every tree. Every stump. She studied the way the moss changed from a bright green to an almost gray. This gave her a clue about the way the sun came in. A clue that probably provided her absolutely no actionable information other than to keep her mind occupied, to make her feel as if she could navigate this maze on her own if she had to.
“So, mostly there’s only black bears out here,” Kim said suddenly. “Occasionally some grizzlies, though. They roam really far, and it’s happened.”
“Okay,” Miriam said flatly. She already knew that, of course. One did not venture into the woods without understanding the local predators.
“Black bears are smaller. If you run into one, you should make yourself as big and loud as possible. It’ll probably run.”
“I know.”
Kim glanced back with a smirk. “Oh. Well, of course you do. So, you also know that for grizzlies, you should—”
“Curl up in a ball. Play dead. Hope they get bored.”
The back of Kim’s blue hair bounced in a nod, but she didn’t slow her pace. “Sorry. I usually spend the hike out to the lake educating people on how to survive out here. I’ve never had a client that already knew everything.”
Miriam didn’t reply, instead ruminating on whether she knew everything. Not everything she decided, but probably more than this girl.
When Kim offered no further topic of conversation, Miriam returned to the stillness of the forest. At first, she thought it quiet. Society didn’t hum here. No road noise. No thrumming of factories or whirring of electricity. But the forest wasn’t really quiet; just filled with much more pleasant noises. Birds chirped above. Unseen animals skittered across the tree branches. The whoosh of the foliage against their legs sounded alien and foreign, and Miriam suddenly became hyper-aware of how unwelcome they were here. She’d never had that thought before. That maybe she didn’t belong among the wild animals.
After a few more minutes of silence, Kim asked, “Dating anyone?”
Miriam responded quickly, as if on autopilot. “No.” She backtracked. “Yes. I mean yes. Gabe. His name is Gabe.”
For the first time, Kim stopped walking and turned. A huge grin painted her face. “You sure about that?”
Miriam felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Small talk was the absolute worst, especially about this. About Gabe. It made her skin crawl.
“It’s still new.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m sure he’s a nice boy.” Kim said.
Kim stared at Miriam as if she expected something else, but Miriam froze, staying silent until Kim resumed the march into the woods. Ahead, a barely worn path veered to the left. Kim didn’t take it, but Miriam slowed as she approached, embarrassment urging her to maybe take the left, get lost in the woods, and become a mountain-woman. She thought better of it and hurried to close the gap instead.
Searching for a way to cut through the awkwardness, Miriam tried to turn the tables. “What about you? Got a boyfriend?”
No slowing this time, so Miriam couldn’t see Kim’s face when she said, “How do you know I like boys?”
At that moment, Miriam decided that Kim was what Macy would call a troll.
“Well. I... I guess I don’t. How did you know I like boys?”
“Gabe is usually a male name, but I suppose it could be short for Gabriella. Are you dating a Gabriella?” Kim said, still moving forward, one foot in front of the other, as if the ground were smooth and flat and easy to traverse. To be sure, the conversation provided a tougher path than the forest for Miriam.
“But you asked if I had a boyfriend first.”
“Did I? I’m pretty sure I just asked if you were dating anyone.”
Miriam rewound the conversation, trying to remember exactly how it’d started.
Unprompted Kim continued, “I just think love can’t be constrained by gender labels. When I do find someone, it doesn’t matter to me what gender they are. It matters who they are. Ya know?”
Miriam didn’t know and she didn’t want to know—she wanted to exit the conversation as soon as possible. Though a part of her did find the notion interesting. Miriam had spent zero time thinking about love or what it should mean or how she should choose it. Did she love Gabe? She decided not. Not yet anyway. Maybe she was incapable of love. She had a complicated relationship with her dad that she’d be hesitant to call love. Maybe Tanner or Macy. Maybe she loved them. Maybe.
“Yeah,” was all Miriam managed, before asking, “Are there any wolves out here?”
There weren’t any, of course, but wolves were preferable to love.
“No. There are some in the east, especially as you get closer to Yellowstone. But not down here.”
“That’s good.”
Whether because she took the hint, or because the conversation had run its course, Kim fell silent again, still trudging through the underbrush as if it parted specifically for her. Miriam followed, thankful for the silence, trying to keep her mind from nagging her about love and what it meant and whether she was normal. She turned her focus to the monster they were out here to find. The devil.
Surely no devil. Probably an animal. If lucky, maybe a rare or undiscovered one. Miriam believed in the supernatural even less than she believed in love. As time had gone on, however, she found that money started to be the bigger focus. She’d graduate soon, and her attempts at monetizing her skillset had largely failed, with only a few odd jobs, none of which paid enough to sustain her in the long term. This job, though. This one paid well. And she hoped with success she’d find other clients.
After another fifteen minutes of walking, Kim slowed up. So lost in thought, Miriam didn’t even register why until they stepped into a clearing with a view of a huge, mossy lake. The forest surrounded it on all sides, giving it the feel of some secret grotto, though not an attractive one. Debris littered the edges, mostly sticks and moss and leaves and, largest of all, a few entire logs—as if the trees had come here to die. She wondered briefly how that even happened, but Kim jumped in before Miriam could ponder it too long.
“So, this is it.” She spread her arms out, twisting right, then left to encompass the entire body of water. “Misty Lake. Home of the...”
She trailed off. Miriam had noticed that Kim didn’t seem to like calling it a devil, but she also didn’t appear to have an alternate word for it.
“Home of the anomaly,” Miriam offered.
Kim smiled. “Yes. The anomaly. I like that.”
Hopefully not an anomaly for much longer.
Miriam looked around to the small patch of dry land before them, the grass smoothed out and even worn bare in places. “So, is this where we make camp?”
Kim nodded. “Yup. This is where I usually set up. It provides a great view of the lake, and we can use the trees to hang our stuff.”
Miriam went straight to work without any more prompting, unrolling her one-person tent and setting up with expert ease. She took the food she had and shoved it all in a bear bag before tying it to a rope and looping it over the nearest tree branch. Hopefully, she pulled it high enough that bears wouldn’t be able to get to it. Kim did her own thing during this, mostly ending at the same result. Miriam appreciated the focused quiet time.
In the end, the entrance to Kim’s tent faced Miriam’s, with only a few feet between them. The charred firepit from Kim’s previous expeditions sat between them at a safe distance. This would do nicely.
Miriam was ready to work. “So, I assume the devil-thing is nocturnal, or at the very least crepuscular. Most animals are. We should get some rest now, so we can stay up to watch for it.”
Kim nodded blankly.
“What times of day have you most often seen it?” Miriam asked.
Kim glanced out over the lake before answering. “All times of day. Morning most often. When my campers are still sleeping.”
“So crepuscular, probably. Good to know. That means we might catch it at dusk, or shortly after nightfall.”
“Yeah... maybe,” Kim murmured.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you in a few hours then,” Miriam said, crouching into her tent.
She zipped up the door and rolled out her sleeping bag. She laid down on top of it, and propped her hands up behind her head. She listened. To the trees. To the birds. To sporadic splashes of water. And for Kim, who seemed eternally silent. But Miriam knew one thing.
Kim never entered her tent.
