They trudged back the way they had come and collected a load of boughs. When Sammy placed several branches covered in lichen on the pile, she tacitly removed them.

“Why don’t you want those?” Sammy asked.

“These branches are weakened from lichen and aren’t as strong.”

Shortly thereafter, Elise found a limb twice her height for the backbone of their shelter. Dead wood weighed considerably less than newly cut trees. They carried it back to camp without any issues.

Wedging the limb into a tree fork between the trunk and a sturdy branch close to the ground, Elise buried the opposite end in the earth at a thirty-degree angle. Then she began the tedious task of collecting dead boughs and snapping them in appropriate lengths with her boots. The limbs were arranged in size from smallest to largest and leaned against the shelter’s spine. Once completed, the A-frame of sticks somewhat resembled dinosaur ribs.

“Have you ever camped in the forest before?” Sammy asked her during one of their breaks.

“I have.” Before her last trip to the hospital, Elise had taken off with a tent and bedroll on the back of her motorbike to tour Scotland’s North Coast 500, doing a wee bit of wild camping along the way.

“You do fun things.” Sammy’s eyes shone with admiration.

“If shooting, camping, and riding motorbikes are fun, then, yes, I do.”

Warmth spread inside her body. And in that unguarded moment, her love for Sammy deepened even more.

No one had ever admired her interests before, certainly not her sisters. She ruffled Sammy’s hair, careful not to touch his goose egg.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” she said to prolong their rest.

“What?”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

She needed to divert Sammy from how tired he was and the semi-hero worship he had developed for her. Sammy was under the misconception that she only cared for masculine sports.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even my dad.”

“I think your dad already knows, but you don’t have to remind him.” She leaned over and said conspiratorially, “I love pretty things.”

“Like flowers?” Sammy’s mouth twisted as though he had tasted something nasty.

“Can’t I like a few girlie things?”

“I guess so.” Sammy brightened. “Thierry’s my friend, and she sometimes likes girl stuff.” He scuffed the toe of his boot and studied her for a moment. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like pollywogs.”

“Then, I guess we can stay friends, because I like wee froggies too. I imagine a number of them are down by the river.” Elise stretched her hips and repressed a groan. “Now that we know each other’s secrets, we need to get moving if we want to sleep tonight.”