The map was useless to her. North and south totally meaningless. The binoculars dangled from her right hand, arrested there on the way to around her neck. This was his idea, and she had told him that it was a bad one – she had no interest in camping out and was only happy outdoors if the outing had a maximum three-hour time limit. When she finally caught up to him, he smiled at her and jauntily inquired, “Where are we?” She gave him her I-don’t-know-little-girl-lost look, and then thrust the map at him more enthusiastically than she had intended. His look of surprise solicited a muttered “Sorry,” but secretly she was disappointed that he had been standing on the flatter part of the upward, winding trail.
Camping Out – Fragment #50