Preamble
The morning fog rested gently on the expanse of Pacific Northwest woodlands. Jagged crevices and jutting peaks proved stubbornly impassable for modern roads, often washed away overnight with only the fog resting in indifference.
This morning, the last of the tendrils lifting from one of the valleys revealed a lively group of men. Backpackers? If so they looked like they’d been out there for a while, with patches showing through most of their clothes. And their faces were relatively clean shaven. They called back and forth to one another, indifferent to the quiet forest around them.
“Potatoes!” yells one. “Potatoes!!!!” yell the other two back. “Quinoa” yells another. “Fucking quinoa,” yell the other two back. “Rabbit,” yells the third. “We’ve got rabbit for days…” laughter then “Rabbit!!!”
“Steak.” They all pause. “Stttteeeeeaaaaakkkkkk.” they all say back to each other.
A game of hunger? Looking at these folks they don’t look too bad — healthy even. But yes, there is some sort of hunger gleaming out of their eyes as they make their way to the creek that winds at the bottom of this peak.
The two fall short behind the first who has abruptly stopped. Some punching of ribs and rubbing of eyes and we find that their gaze rests on a young woman. Doesn’t matter what she’s wearing (if anything) — their eyes take in that she’s young and female and wholly out of place here.
She cocks her head to the side, coquettish, “why, hello there.”
Did she bat her eyes? She batted her eyes. And the hunger flares up in the gentleman’s eyes.
They pitch themselves down towards the creek, leaping over stones and fallen branches to make it to the other side. The first man falters, falling knee deep into the creek. The cold of the stream makes him stop momentarily to see a coyote watching them as intently as they watch the woman, crouched down low above the creek. Bu his eyes snap back to the woman as the originator of the Steak cry is the first to reach her. He grabs her arm and she jerks back, surprised.
Now the coyote becomes a silvery blur of action, three screams and the forest yet again returns back to quiet.
“Well,” she says breathlessly. “That was interesting.” Tosses her hair and sashays back into the overgrowth.
