Last night, while I was sleeping in my tent, I heard a quiet, repetitive, high pitched sound coming from nearby. I was reading when the noise began, but it worked quickly to unravel my concentration. I pictured a bird first. Something small and dark, picking through our camp, following a scent and looking for scraps.
At night. I turned off my flashlight.
What kind of bird would make so much noise at night while foraging? A small bird that did that would not last long. We sleep at night, but there are plenty of hungry creatures that wake at sundown.
Something bigger then. I thought about my rifle, lying next me in the tent. I don't keep it loaded, and the shells are in my bag, outside of my tent. Why do I do that?
I lower pitched noise joined the high one. This one seemed familiar to me.
It grew just a little louder, as I listened; I soon recognized it.
It was Luke. And the first noise was Celine.
I turned my flashlight back on, and the beam splashed over the butt of my long rifle, the carbon looking very dull under the harsh light.
I picked up my book and continued to read.
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