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Rated: E · Fiction · Nature · #2184597
fork in the trail

Bear Creek

I am lost, that's for sure. Took a wrong turn at that fork in the trail. Now what!? I guess could go back, retrace my steps. I know I lost my pink water bottle as well, probably at the stream I crossed. Where was that?

I took out my map - a folded square in my pants pocket. "Yes, there is that stream. Bear Creek, right near the fork in the road. Ha - must have missed the spoon and the knife as well!"

"Are you talking to me?" questioned a male voice from the woods nearby.

"I must be hearing things." Sweat dripped off my nose. "I maybe am dehydrated, after all I lost my water bottle."

"You bet - do you want a drink? I have water."

Again, that voice. I look into the woods. Where was he? This was kind of creepy. The sweat trickling down my back was turning cold.

"Come out, and be aware that I have bear spray! And I'm not afraid to use it!"

Out from the bushes and brambles emerged a man, not a bear, thank God.

"Well, I'm not a bear. And thank God, neither are you! So we can forget the bear spray. Unless you want to season some potatoes with it! After all, you did say something about a fork, knife and spoon."

W/C 220
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