It’s ice cold—damp as a bath. Carly snatches my cel from out of my jeans and sends it sailing into the thicket to our left. “You bitch,” I say, taking a step in the direction of my now absent phone. “Takes one to know one.” Carson shuts my door and gets back in the car. “Tel Logan I said hi,” Carly says before ditching into the passenger’s seat. Carson starts the engine and rol s down her window. “I’d threaten you not to tel anybody, but we already know you’re a little snitch.” She turns the car around in a fit and misses me by inches. “Have a nice hike!” Carly shouts out the window as they speed down the trail. A plume of dust fol ows the tires, fil ing the air with the sweet scent of earth. Great. I head off in the direction of my phone. Shadows fal from every direction. Thick branches weave themselves into a luminescent tapestry overhead, and I can hear the distinct baritone chirp of a bird emanating from behind. It’s him. A tal black raven bends the bough of a low evergreen branch.
