Canoes & Catacombs — 8: A Smoldering Volcano

In the morning, Trace awakened to find Becky standing, looking out the cave. He lay upon the sleeping bag, his body pressed fully against Shelly’s. Her hand had reached back and rested upon his leg, holding his warmth against her.

He lay still for a moment, eyes wide.

When Becky turned back toward them, Trace quickly backed away and got up to stand by his wife’s side.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

She looked at him for a brief second, then pointed out the cave entrance. “The sun is coming up on the other side of the mountain.”

He took a step outside the entrance, spotted the blush of sunrise in the sky, and noticed in the distance that the shadow of the mountain slanted to the right. Using that as a guide, he decided that they needed to go left, counter-clockwise, around the base of the mountain, if they were to have the least distance to travel.

They should be able to make it around the semicircle with the daylight, if they didn’t wait too long to start. They shouldn’t have to go through another night outside in their bags.

Alone, he thought. Ah, just as well. He didn’t want to piss Becky off any more for at least a while.