Chapter 8: Little Red and the Huntsman

After they tethered the boat to the island's dock, Luke and Rory picked a random footpath and start walking. Rory took the lead, stomping the path with a vengeance that bordered on a temper tantrum. Luke followed silently, matching her anger-fueled pace, for some while.

After nearly a mile of silence, Luke said, "Might feel better if you talk about it."

"Huh?" Rory said. She had almost forgotten about her shadow.

"I said I wasn't going to interfere, and I'm not," Luke said. "Just thought . . . you seem pretty steamed."

Rory slowed down and walked beside him for a while.

"I just don't want to talk about it," she said apologetically.

"Okay," Luke said, and didn't press again.

They hiked on, climbing steadily upward. Birds loped overhead, dipping drunkenly after flies; gnats buzzed near their faces, despite the bug spray they'd found in the boat. Sun dappled Rory's shoulders, making her feel alternately warm or cool.

"Lookit that," Luke said suddenly.

Before Rory could ask what he was looking at, a deer leaped elegantly across their path. Rory gasped, surprised at the near-horse size of the animal, its enormous branch-like antlers, and the loud clumping of its hooves, yet its ballerina grace as it bounded into the woods. It fled behind a bush where it thought the humans couldn't see it, and stared at them warily with wide brown eyes.

"Wow," Rory breathed.

"They don't usually get that close," Luke said. "We must've snuck up on him."

"It's so pretty," she said.

As they walked on, Rory became aware of the bunnies and chipmunks munching on the leafy plants that grew at the edges of the path. But when she and Luke approached, the little animals fled in terror; Rory felt a little guilty that her intrusive human footfalls were scaring away the cute little animals. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

"Animals don't have little cell phones," Luke drawled. "That's why they don't get little brain tumors."

"I'm not calling them," Rory said goodnaturedly. "I'm taking pictures."

"With your phone?" Luke said, as if this signaled the end of human civilization.

"Don't fear the technology, Luke. It's the wave of the future."

"It's a fad."

"Sure it is. Like television and the Internet."

"Don't get me started," Luke grumbled. "Have you always had that?"

"A picture phone? No, it's new. Grandma got us on her family plan."

"How's it work?"

With a grin, Rory showed him. "And then I can email the picture, or just send it to another person's phone. Here, watch, I'll send it to Paris."

Later, Rory would receive a text message: Thank you for pulling me out of the British Museum to look at a squirrel. God knows they don't have them in England. Or THE REST OF THE PLANET.

"What'll they think of next," Luke said sarcastically. But he couldn't help being a little impressed. Picard's tricorders couldn't even do that.

"They've got all kinds of combo phones now," Rory said. "My roommate Janet had a ton of mp3s on hers. She used to take it jogging with her, so she didn't have to carry a separate phone and walkman."

"What the hell's an mp3?" Luke asked.

"It's music; people trade them like pogs. I've got about a gig on my computer." Off Luke's blank look, she explained, "A gig is a unit of memory." His expression still didn't register understanding. "It's a lot," she said.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't know you were such a techno-girl."

"It's a college thing. Everyone has their laptops wired into the school's network, and everyone downloads movies and stuff from everyone else. It's only a little illegal, if you think about it."

"Isn't 'a little illegal' like 'a little pregnant'?" Luke said.

Rory shrugged.

They walked on, conversation at a lull.

"Did you catch the weather report today?" Luke asked. They had been hiking uphill for over an hour and were probably a hundred feet above the lake; from that height, Luke could see darkish clouds in the distance.

"No, why?"

"Just don't like the look of those rain clouds."

Rory looked straight up; the sky was blue and cheerful above them, the birds were tweeting, the air was still. "They're probably miles away. And, if we get rained on, it will feel nice in this heat."

"It's not the rain I'm worried about it, it's the lightning."

Rory considered that. "Well, okay," she agreed. "Except, I saw a sign for a ladies' room up ahead, so do you think we could walk up there first, and then turn around?"

Luke took another glance at the rain clouds; they were probably miles away. "Sure," he said.

Something occurred to him. "We probably should have told someone where we were going," Luke said. "In case something happens."

"Nothing's going to happen," Rory said. Luke gave her a look. "All right," she said reluctantly. She brought up Lorelai's number in her phone book and handed the phone to Luke.

Luke, clearly not wanting to touch the carcinogen-bleeding object, left a brief message on Lorelai's voicemail and handed the phone back to Rory.

Back at the house, Lorelai and Emily backed out of the driveway. Lorelai's cell phone rang on the kitchen table.

TBC