She snuck off, snickering at his quaint phrasing about bodily functions. When she returned, Becker had already rolled up the sleeping bags and their backpacks rested against the log. He gave her a crusty look. “Thought I told you to tell me when you needed—” “I don’t need you to hold my hand,” she retorted sweetly. “Could’ve fooled me last night.” Her face flamed. Damn Nordic genes. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.” She tied her sleeping bag to her pack, grabbed her toothbrush and uncapped her canteen. Empty. Without another word, she headed for the creek. Scrubbing her face and teeth improved her mood. Until she noticed Becker leaning against a tree, glaring at her. “What? Hoping to see me fall in and get washed downstream?” Becker scowled. “You have a real high opinion of me.” He sidestepped her and bent to fill his canteen. “I assume you’ve got a plan for getting us back to civilization?” Why did his back stiffen? “Yeah. I think we should walk east.
