13 Howler's Pack

Becca

My skin burns from the beaming sun above. We weren't gifted with clouds today. The parched ground under my boots craves the rain, just like me.

The dirt road we took to get to the forest seems endless, and I swear I see things that aren't there.

On one side are fields of harvested corn stalks stretching for miles, while on the other, there is a vast cattle pasture. The forest is visible in the distance but still too far to provide any relief.

I reach into the side strap of my backpack to retrieve my water bottle, unsure whether to drink from it or pour it on my head.

"Why did we think coming on foot was better than by car?" I ask Jason, whose steps are getting heavier beside me.

"I'd say no clue, but we both know you were the one who insisted that a little walk can’t hurt," he replies with a grumble.

I drink from my water and pretend he didn't say that, but my self-defense gets the best of me. "It didn't look this far on the map," I say defensively.

"I guess we lear