"Hike"

My hand slipped into his, rough, calloused, but warm against the bone chilling air of a Northwestern forest. His feet seemed to glide, to never touch down, while mine tripped over every knotted root, and jutting stone. I could see nothing, but hear everything. Each sound heightened, bringing the thrill of fear closing in on me. My self- control, my fate left in the direction of a friend of a friend. I squeezed his hand and he laughed at me in the dark. Aleathia Drehmer 2006