It’s the middle of the night. You’re lying in your tent, tossing and turning, searching for that perfect position.
You’re about 50 yards from the trail, yet the sudden scream sounds like it’s coming from inside your tent.
This isn’t a dream. Not a drill.
You know someone’s in terrible danger—but you have no idea what to do.
If you unzip the tent, he/she/it/they might spot you.
Do nothing, and the person…
What would you do?
I’ll tell you what I did.
First, I shut Abby up—her barking was ruining the vibe.
Then the beast in me tore the tent wide open, and I hollered,
“Pull your shit together or I’m gonna beat all your asses.”
Silence.
Not a stir.
I then grabbed this fucker.
Thank god for it—if I’d had any weaker flashlight, I would’ve seen nothing but branches.
Turned it on, and just beyond the light: a woman in her early 30s, dressed in what looked like a large doily.
“You’re not gonna hurt me?” she asked, trembling.
I didn’t dare step forward. She almost looked feral.
“If you attack me, I will.”
“I won’t attack you.” She grinned. “My name’s Bella.”
Bella said she has regular nightmares and was hoping a night out in nature would cure her.
“Could take a while,” I told her.
I hadn’t shared my name—must’ve forgotten.
Just as I thought the conversation was winding down, she asked if she could stay in my tent for the rest of the night.
“With me?”
“If you don’t mind.”
I nodded.
She hobbled over. In we went.
We didn’t sleep, but there was no hanky panky either.
More on Bella—and our journey—next week.
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