I yanked off my raincoat and wrapped it around him.
His whole body jolted like the warmth hurt.
I leaned in close.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said. “I’ll protect you.”
He swallowed hard.
“My name is Andrew,” he whispered.
Getting him to my camp was ugly.
“I’m Claire,” I told him. “And you’re coming with me.”
His eyes filled.
“Am I gonna die?” he asked.
My stomach dropped.
I forced my voice steady.
“No,” I said. “Not today.”
“Where’s your group?”
Getting him to my camp was ugly.
Mud. Wind. Dusk.
He slipped. I caught him.
“Hold my hand,” I ordered.
He grabbed on like I was a rope over a cliff.
“Where’s your group?” I shouted.
He stared like his brain had stalled.
“School,” he cried. “We were hiking. I got turned around.”
Thunder cracked. Andrew yelped.
“Eyes on me,” I said. “Just me.”
He nodded fast.
In my tent, I moved fast.
“Boots off,” I said.
His hands shook too much to untie laces.
He stared like his brain had stalled.
“Boots. Off,” I repeated.
He obeyed.
His socks were drenched.
His hands shook too much to untie his laces.
I did it for him.
I poured tea from my thermos.
I shoved dry clothes at him.
“Put these on. Behind the sleeping bag.”
He changed with his back turned, trembling.
I poured tea from my thermos.
“Small sips,” I warned. “Hot.”
He took it with both hands.
I heated canned soup on my camp stove.
His eyes filled.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Drink,” I said. “Then soup.”
I heated canned soup on my camp stove.
The storm tried to tear the tent apart.
Rain hammered the fabric.
“You came when you heard me.”
Andrew flinched at every boom.
I sat close.
He ate like he didn’t trust the bowl would stay.
Then he looked up at me.
“You came when you heard me,” he said.
“Of course,” I said.
He shook his head, stubborn.
“If it weren’t for you,” he whispered, “I would’ve died.”
“Don’t make it a debt,” I said.
He frowned. “Why not?”
“Because you’re a kid,” I said. “And this is what adults are supposed to do.”
He shook his head, stubborn.
“I’m gonna repay you,” he said.
Then he fell asleep.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I told him.
He blinked slowly, exhaustion winning.
“I promise,” he whispered.
Then he fell asleep.
Right there.
Mid-breath.
Andrew woke with a start, then saw me.
I barely slept.
I listened to the storm and the kid breathing.
I kept thinking how close it was.
Dawn came gray.
The wind eased.
Andrew woke with a start, then saw me.
He looked embarrassed.
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