Chapter Fifty-Nine
Landon It's nearly midnight when I arrive at the Docks, but the summer sun hasn't set yet, and the golden rays set the dark surface of the lake ablaze. It looks like oil on fire, and I swear I've never seen a more spectacular sight. This is one of those times I have to grudgingly admit that not even the Manhattan skyline compares with the raw beauty of Alaska. I lean against one of the damp, algae-covered posts, hugging my arms across my chest to fend off the icy breeze. Droplets of water collect on my army jacket, carried in with the mist, and when the sunbeams hit the lake at the perfect angle, the fog-banks transform into a shimmering golden haze. For a few moments, I can't remember why I hate this camp so much, or why I was so determined to run away. It's hard to tear my eyes away
- Writer
