1
LILA
I'm not lost.
That's what I keep telling myself as I check my phone for the hundredth time. No service, because of course there isn't. I'm in the middle of nowhere Montana, surrounded by trees that all look exactly the same.
The trail disappeared two hours ago. Or I left it. Details.
"This was supposed to be therapeutic," I mutter, wincing as I put weight on my throbbing ankle. "Reconnect with nature. Find yourself, Lila."
What I've found is that nature doesn't care about my post-breakup healing journey. Nature just wants to remind me I'm a city girl who has no business hiking alone in the mountains.
My ex would laugh himself sick if he could see me now.This is why you need me, Lila. You can't do anything on your own.
The memory of Peter's voice in my head straightens my spine. Screw him. I can do this. I am an independent woman with a sprained ankle and a rapidly depleting phone battery, but I can figure this out.
The light is fading fast, shadows stretching between the pines. I check my watch—6:42 PM. It'll be dark soon, and the temperature's dropping with the sun.
My extensive wilderness training of one REI class and several YouTube videos, suggests I should find shelter, build a fire, and wait for rescue. But no one knows I'm here. I told the clerk at my hotel I was taking a day hike on the main trail. That was twelve hours and several wrong turns ago.
"Focus, Lila," I whisper, fighting the panic rising in my chest. "What would Bear Grylls do?"
Probably drink his own pee, which I'm absolutely not doing.
I force myself to stop, take a deep breath, and assess. My ankle hurts but isn't broken. I have half a protein bar, a nearly empty water bottle, and a light jacket that's doing nothing against the mountain chill. My phone is at 12% with no service.
"Could be worse," I say to no one. "Could be raining."
On cue, I feel the first drop hit my cheek. Because the universe is clearly enjoying this karmic payback for my hubris.
"Seriously?" I yell at the darkening sky.
My only answer is more raindrops, fat and cold, speckling my face and arms. I pull up my hood and limp forward, looking for anything that might provide shelter—a rock outcropping, a particularly dense tree, a random luxury cabin with a hot tub and Wi-Fi.
The rain picks up, soaking through my supposedly waterproof jacket within minutes. My teeth are chattering now, and my ankle screams with every step.
"Just keep going," I tell myself. "One foot in front of the other."
But which direction? The GPS on my phone died ten minutes ago, taking with it any hope of finding the trail. I'm officially, completely lost.
As darkness falls, the forest transforms from picturesque to predatory. Every sound—the rustle of leaves, the creak of branches—becomes a threat. My imagination conjures bears, mountain lions, wolves, and ax murderers lurking behind every tree.
I stumble over a root and go down hard, crying out as pain shoots through my already injured ankle. Mud soaks through my pants, and tears mix with the rain on my face.
"Help!" I shout, knowing it's useless. "Anyone?"
Nothing but the steady drum of rain and the mocking whisper of wind through the trees.
I curl into a ball at the base of a massive pine, shivering violently. This can't be happening. I came to Montana to find myself, not die of hypothermia in the wilderness. What a stupid, cliché way to go.
Woman on Post-Breakup Soul-Search Found Dead in Woods. Ex-Boyfriend Says 'I Told Her So.'
The headline is so clear in my mind that I laugh, a slightly hysterical sound that turns into a sob.
"I'm not dying here," I say through chattering teeth. "Not like this."
But as the rain soaks me to the bone and the temperature continues to drop, I'm running out of options. My limbs are growing heavy, my thoughts sluggish. I know enough about exposure to recognize the danger signs.
