I glance at the window again, watching the wind whip across the fields. The storm is well and truly here now. The flashes of lightning are getting closer, the thunder rolling louder. And somewhere out there, Ivy is sitting in her little tent, braving it alone.
I really hope she’s dry.
26
Emergency Jammie Dodgers
Ivy
“Well, would you lookat that,” I say to absolutely no one as I sit cross-legged inside my newly assembled tent. “A structurally sound, waterproof, sheep-proof—probably—tent, put up entirely by yours truly. Who says city girls can’t survive in the wild?”
I clap my hands together, victorious. It only took me, what, an hour? Two? A minor wrestling match with a pole that refused to slot into place? But here I am. Tent up, dignity mostly intact, and no major injuries apart from that one incident where I tripped over.
I glance at the little camping cooker in front of me. Right. Time for the next challenge.
I pick up the instructions, squinting at them.
Step one: attach the gas canister. I look at the canister. Then at the cooker. Then back at the canister. “Okay, that seems easy enough.”
I twist it oneway. Nothing.
I twist it the other way. Nothing.
I push. I pull. I wiggle it aggressively.
It does not attach.
“Right, cool. Love this for me,” I mutter, shaking it like that might magically fix the problem. “Really thriving out here.”
I set it down, taking a deep breath. It’s fine. I have time. The storm clouds rolling in aren’t a concern. Nope. Not at all. Just a bit of drizzle on the way, a light sprinkling of nature. I’m an outdoorswoman now. I can handle a little rain.
Thunder rumbles in the distance.
I freeze. “That was far away. Definitely far away. No need to panic.”
To prove my own point, I casually lean out of the tent and check the pegs holding everything in place. The inner and outer layers seem fine—nice and sturdy, no obvious disasters waiting to happen.
I sit back inside, feeling smug. Maybe I should start a survival blog. “How to Conquer the Outdoors: A Beginner’s Guide to Being an Absolute Legend.” I’d have tips like:
Do not trip over your own tent.
Do not kick your mallet into the bushes and spend twenty minutes looking for it.
Do not spend an alarming amount of time talking to yourself like a lunatic.
Another deep rumble shakes the air. I glance outside. The sky is getting darker by the second, thick cloudsswallowing up the last bit of daylight. The wind tugs at the sides of the tent, making the fabric ripple.
