A couple of hours later, we’re still lost.

I’m beginning to wish I had trusted Noah and gone off with him. Maybe we would have found some sort of civilization by now. It couldn’t possibly be worse.

Or could it?

We all look like people who have been wandering through the woods for the last day. The hair in my ponytail is sticking to the back of my neck and I’ve got dirt ground into my shorts and shirt. All the guys have a day’s worth of beard on their faces, and their clothes haven’t fared much better than mine. Even Warner doesn’t look so good, although GQ would probably still take him for somewhere in the catalog for a segment on “roughing it.”

We come across another small pond. There are a couple of gray- colored birds drinking from the water, their beaks slurping up the liquid in a way that is starting to make me jealous. Warner nudges Jack. “You should try shooting one of them.”

Jack frowns. “Shooting them?”

Warner rolls his eyes. “We’ve had nothing but trail mix and beef jerky to eat for the last twenty-four hours. We can make a fire and cook up those birds.”

“Oh.” Even though Jack was the one who wanted to go hunting, he doesn’t look excited by the idea of shooting some birds. “I guess.”

“No shit. Just shoot the damn things.”

Jack hesitates, but he finally lifts his rifle. I take a step back, because I have no idea what sort of shot he is. I wasn’t on board with the idea of going hunting, but I feel oddly dispassionate about the idea of shooting these birds. It’s not quite as bad as shooting Bambi’s mother. Although they probably have little birds waiting for them back in the nest. The babies are probably waiting for them to come home and regurgitate some worms into their mouths or something. They’re probably getting hungry.

Ugh, I need to stop thinking about this before I start crying.

Jack aims the rifle, but his hands are shaking like crazy. He adjusts it several times, but I don’t know how he could hit anything.

“Christ, you’re shaking like an old man,” Warner snorts. “Don’t you know how to aim?”

“Just let me do this,” Jack says tightly.

“You’re just going to waste a bullet and scare them off.” Warner holds out his hand. “Let me try.”

Jack tightens his grip on the rifle. “Yeah, right.”

Warner throws back his head and laughs. “What do you think? You think I’m going to steal it from you and shoot you?”

Jack narrows his eyes. “You said it, not me.”

“Well, in that case…” Warner takes a step closer to Jack. “You better keep a close eye on that gun.”

Noah and I exchange looks. The animosity between Jack and Warner seems to be escalating by the minute. I’m beginning to be sorry Jack brought that gun. I wonder if he feels the same way.

Jack aims again at the birds. His hands are slightly steadier this time, but he still misses both the birds. And the gunshot scares them off, just like Warner predicted. So much for a chicken dinner.

“You shoot like a girl,” Warner says.

I should probably be offended by that comment, but I just feel uneasy.

And also, I’m sure I shoot worse than anyone here.

“Also,” Warner adds, “you can’t navigate worth a damn. We would’ve found that inn yesterday if you weren’t here giving us the wrong directions.”

Jack’s ears turn bright pink. “I can navigate just fine. Your map is wrong. You must’ve printed out the wrong one.”

“Right.” Warner snorts. “Blame it all on me. That’s convenient.”

I take another step back. Warner and Jack both look steamed. I wish Jack didn’t have that gun. What if he turns it on Warner and shoots him? I don’t want this trip to end with Jack going to jail.

“You guys need to calm down,” Noah says. Instead of backing away like I am, he steps between them. “We’re never going to get out of here if you keep fighting like this.”

They both keep glaring at each other.

“Jack.” Noah holds out his right hand. “I think you should give me the gun.”

Jack is quiet for a moment. He and Noah have been friends for a long time. I know that he trusts Noah. Of course, Noah trusted him and look what happened.

“Fine,” Jack finally says. He places the rifle in Noah’s outstretched hand. “Take it.”

Noah accepts the rifle. He holds onto it with surprising ease, considering I’ve never seen my husband hold a gun before. Of course, I never knew he went hiking when he was a kid. Maybe there’s other stuff I don’t know about him from his past.

“Let’s get going,” Noah says. And we keep walking.