This afternoon
Scott crept into the wood beside the trail, carefully lifting his feet and checking for sticks and leaves. He wasn’t soundless, by any stretch, and something as timid and cowardly as a deer or rabbit would flee long before he got a chance to photograph it.
Could be a bear, he thought. Brandon, who hovered somewhat behind him, even noisier, and less cautious, was insisting in a hissing, probably carrying whisper that it was a bear, they were going to be eaten by a bear, and boy, wasn’t that just going to suck.
“Be quiet,” Scott said. He crouched closer to the ground, stealing forward a few precious inches. The breathing sounds were heavier, labored, wheezy.
He parted the branches with one hand, camera already primed; he just needed to click the shutter as soon as somethin
