Two days ago
Logan came to an abrupt halt, so suddenly that Scott had no time to alter his course and slammed right into the back of the hike leader. Logan held up one hand in a fist, one of those “I’ve seen too many movies” hand signals that no one really understood unless they’d read the script. Probably meant stop, and might also have meant be quiet. Or maybe “I see something. “
Scott took out his camera just in case and took a series of shots; he’d remembered, at least, to turn the sound off on his camera. It wasn’t necessary, drained the battery just the slightest bit more than it needed to, and the whirrrr click of the camera could potentially frighten—or annoy—the local wildlife.
Several dark gray hairs were twined in a thatch of weeds, just off the trail. Logan plucked these gen
