I peeked my head around the edge of the mine, one finger on the trigger of my nine. After assessing the threat level as minimal, I stepped into the clearing, keeping my center of gravity low. As I hiked back down the trail, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. I weaved through the path in the trees, with Janie and Beano following close behind. Beano’s wet nose periodically dampened my hand. Chipmunks chirping and birds singing in the trees seemed louder than usual as I paid close attention to all the surrounding sounds. The trees seemed to whisper and rustle as we passed by, and every little noise made me brace for an ambush.
Beano passed on my left with his ears perked, and his nose sniffing the air. He navigated around large boulders and veered off the trail periodically,
