She shrugs. “Better a sore ankle than a dead cameraman.”
I can’t argue with that logic. But I also can’t ignore the fact that our journey suddenly got a hell of a lot more complicated.
We now have a cameraman with potentially ruined equipment, Lena with a freshly injured ankle, and a creek crossing that is growing more dangerous by the minute.
“We need to make camp,” I announce to the group. “Carlos needs to dry out, and we need to reassess our route.”
Elliott’s face clouds. “We’ve lost a day. We can’t afford another delay.”
“We can’t afford a drowned crew member either,” I point out.
“I’m fine,” Carlos insists, though his teeth are chattering from the cold water.
“You’re not fine,” I state. “You need dry clothes and a thorough check of that equipment. And everyone needs a break after that excitement.” I turn to Elliott. “Besides, this gives you footage of a real rescue. Much better television than whatever you had planned for today.”
That gets his attention. Elliott’s expression changes from frustration to calculation. “You’re right. We’ll play up the danger angle. Lena rising to the occasion, saving a crew member. It’s perfect for her redemption narrative.”
Of course, that would be his takeaway.
While Elliott recalibrates his production plans, I help Lena to a fallen log where she can sit and elevate her ankle. The rest of the crew busies themselves setting up a hastycamp. Carlos strips off his wet clothes and wraps himself in an emergency thermal blanket, looking like a giant baked potato.
“I owe you,” he says to Lena, teeth still chattering. “I thought I was dead for sure.”
“Just doing what needed to be done,” she replies, though I catch the smile she doesn’t hide from the cameras this time.
I kneel beside her to examine her ankle again. Her boot is laced tight, but I can see the strain in the leather and the way she holds herself—favoring it more than before. The swelling’s likely returned, undoing all the progress from her day of rest.
“We need to wrap this well and get some willow bark tea in you.”
“Is that your solution for everything? Tree bark tea?” she asks, though there’s no real bite in her words.
“Only for things that work,” I reply, pulling medical supplies from my pack. “Can’t fix stupidity with tree bark, though. Otherwise, I’d be making gallons for some of these crew members.”
She laughs, a sound that catches me off guard.
“And here I thought you were all gruff mountain man with no sense of humor.”
“I save it for special occasions.” I unlatch her boot and ease it off. “Like near-death experiences and sprained ankles. Also, solar eclipses and when moose wander into my yard.”
“Lucky me.” She winces as I probe the tender area.
“Do the moose appreciate your humor?”
“Hard to tell. They’ve never left a Yelp review, but they keep coming back. Unlike my human guests.”
“I can’t imagine why,” she deadpans, then hisses through her teeth as I find a tender spot.
“The good news is it’s not worse than before,” I tell her. “The bad news is we’ve undone most of the healing from yesterday.”
She nods, accepting the diagnosis without complaint. “What’s the plan now?”
I glance toward the creek, which continues to rise as we speak. The logs that had formed our bridge are now submerged, water rushing over them with increasing force.
“We’re not crossing back soon,” I say. “We’ll camp here tonight and see if the water level drops by morning.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we find another way around,” I say. “There’s always another path if you know where to look.”
