“Don't apologize,” he whispers.
We're face to face now, my hands still framing his bearded cheeks. His eyes reflect the small beam of light, studying me with an intensity that sets my pulse racing. I can feel his heartbeating against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own. Time seems to stretch, thick with possibility. My thumb brushes across his cheekbone, feeling the rough texture of several days' growth.
“Finn?”
“Yes?” His voice sounds rougher than before.
“I—” I start, unsure what I even want to say, but I'm interrupted by shouting outside.
“Movement in camp! Everyone up!”
The moment shatters. Finn is already reaching for his boots, training taking over. I move with similar urgency, tucking the rescued sunscreen into my pocket like a treasure.
“What is it?” I whisper, fear tightening my chest.
“Not sure,” he says, pulling on his jacket. “Stay here until I check.”
“Not a chance,” I counter, already lacing my boots. “We stick together.”
He looks like he wants to argue but seems to recognize the determination in my voice. “Fine. But stay behind me.”
As we prepare to exit the tent and face whatever new danger awaits, I catch his arm. “Finn, about what happened?—”
“Later,” he promises, his eyes meeting mine with unexpected warmth. “We'll figure it out later.”
I nod, but the brief kiss lingers between us like an unfinished sentence as we zip open the tent and step into the noise and confusion of our makeshift camp.
The moment we exit, disarray greets us. Headlamps swing wildly in the darkness, creating disorienting beams of light that cut through the night. Elliott, clad in a ridiculous red thermal onesie, stands in the center of camp, pointing frantically toward the tree line.
“Over there!” he shouts. “I saw something moving!”
The crew clusters together, brandishing whatevermakeshift weapons they've found—a hiking pole, a frying pan, a tripod. Carlos looks absurd wielding his camera like a weapon, as if he plans to document whatever is about to eat us.
Finn's expression shifts to something I recognize—focused, alert, but not panicked. He scans the darkness methodically, one hand reaching back to position me behind him.
“Everyone calm down,” he commands, his voice cutting through the noise. “Elliott, what exactly did you see?”
“Something big,” Elliott says, his voice higher than normal. “Moving between the trees. Could be a bear.”
Dave, still recovering from his bee stings, clutches his sleeping bag around his shoulders like a cape. “I heard branches breaking. Something's definitely out there.”
Finn motions for silence, tilting his head to listen. I strain my ears too, trying to hear past the thundering of my heart. The forest around us seems to hold its breath.
Then I hear it—a low, huffing sound and the unmistakable crack of branches under heavy weight.
“Back away slowly,” Finn instructs, his voice calm but firm. “No sudden movements. Get behind the fire.”
The crew follows his directions, shuffling backward with surprising obedience. My ankle throbs as I step carefully, following Finn's lead without taking my eyes off the tree line.
A shadow moves between the trees, larger than a person and definitely more massive than a deer. My mind cycles through May's casual list of local predators—bears, wolves, lynx with “murder mittens.” None of those options seem appealing right now.
“What do we do?” I whisper to Finn. “Play dead? Climb a tree? Start singing show tunes to scare it away?”
“It depends on what it is,” he says back. “But making noise is good. Let it know we're here, so we don't surprise it.”
“That I can do,” I say, gathering my courage. Years of vocal training for roles has to be good for something in the real world.
Before I can unleash my Broadway-worthy scream, the shadow emerges from the tree line. In the firelight, I can make out the form of a large buck—taller than I expected, with an impressive rack of antlers that catches the moonlight.
