The fire spits and throws a circle of light.
Just him and me, our eyes glittering side-by-side.
No one to watch our backs.
I know the coyote call, the great horned owl. The mountain lion screams like a woman when it's after its prey.
Jack hasn't never screamed like a woman.
He hears the sound and his eyes grow wide and I don't have to look to see it, I know it. I'm looking towards my gun.
He laughs, "Fucking wildlife."
I laugh also because that feels just about right.
I never thought about camping like this. Never went camping with no one else. These are tourist spots, like it or not, used state-park, national-park trailheads where people bring families. We go on past those, deeper into the unknown where we're closer to the night sounds. Don't want to jump at any sounds like a little girl, though.
But it's only Jack that brings the warm and bright with him to hold off that dark forest. The fire's just there to cook shit.