She never should have left her vision site, but she was cold, restless, bored, hungry, and ready to be done with this outdoor
stuff. She wanted a beer and a cigarette, or at least a shower and a sandwich. No, two sandwiches. She knew she should have
been back at base camp by now. Leaving her vision site had been a bad, bad idea.
The stupid piles of rocks that marked the trail blended into the darkness now. Nothing looked familiar—or everything looked
like something she had seen before. Nothing looked safe. Her head ached; her feet hurt from the ugly new hiking boots. She
wanted to stop moving, be done with this. Her shimásání had always told her not to complain, only to be grateful. She pictured her grandmother’s face and remembered the warm smell
of the blue corn cakes she fixed for breakfast. It made her feel like crying, so Annie swore out loud instead.
She saw what looked like a cave up ahead and directed the weak beam of her flashlight into the lava. She would climb there,
she decided, and hope there weren’t any dead bugs or bat poop to creep her out. The old ones had lived in caves, hadn’t they?
Maybe she’d be lucky enough to fall asleep and die. She’d heard of that happening.
