Daddy's Little Wild One

CHAPTER ONE I hated to admit it. My a*s was lost. The fog was coming in thick, and it looked like I’d be sleeping outside until it cleared and could find my way back to the road. I should’ve known better than to go hiking out here without a compass. What was I thinking? When I started out a couple of hours ago, the thick mist crept over the top of the mountains, like any other day. Then the sea smoke rolled in. Now here I was scaling one of many steep mountain slopes of this deserted heart of the Lost Coast, hardly knowing which side was up. The forest duff smell rose from beneath my hiking boots: fungus, fir needles, moisture. As if to remind me, out here, humans were of little consequence. Moisture had become so dense in the air that droplets fell like rain from the leaves every time they were rustled by a slight breeze. Great, now I was getting wet, which meant being cold on top of lost. My glutes were aching from the steep climb. One good thing about hiking in the winter, less brush and stinging nettles to contend with. Who was I kidding? Stinging nettles didn’t stand a chance against Captain Hook, my artificial arm. I lifted the beauty up to admire. No use in gussying her up to look like a fake hand with a silicone sleeve. She had nothing to hide. My hook was made of titanium, which sounded cool. Suddenly, an unmistakable odor shocked me dead still in my tracks, and I had to gulp it in through my nostrils to prove to myself it was true. Wood smoke. Now the question was, would the fire maker be friend or foe?