The pavement turns into damp dirt covered with decaying leaves and spotted with fresh sprigs of growth. The scent of moss and sunshine swirls around me. Each step I advance farther into the woods, my apprehension grows. I’m uncertain about following him, but I comfort myself with the thought that this is Adler Beck. He’s beloved. Famous. Rich. Search parties will be sent out. If I stick with him, they’ll have no choice but to rescue me as well.

It’s not terrible, I admit to myself as we walk along. The leafy canopy blocks the brunt of the sun. Birds chirp and chat. The air whooshes in and out of my lungs effortlessly, clean and pure. There’s not the slightest twinge from my knee, even once the flat terrain tilts vertically.

Beck seems completely at ease amidst the trees, pointing out different flora and fauna we pass.

“I didn’t really peg you as a nature lover,” I inform him after he’s identified every plant in sight. Which is a lot, seeing as we’re in the midst of a forest.

“Maybe you should stop ‘pegging’ me as anything,” Beck replies.

“I call them like I see them,” I respond, swatting away a fly.

The light ahead grows brighter and larger as we continue trekking through the forest, and then we’re through the trees, overlooking the view we’ve hiked all this way to survey.

“Whoa,” I murmur breathlessly, taking in the scene spread before me. I used to think there was no nicer view than an expanse of green only interrupted by stark white lines, but there is. It’s this. A sight I’m only used to seeing as the automatic screensaver my computer generates. The kind that makes your breath hitch and your eyes blink to ensure it’s not a mirage.

“Not bad, huh?” Beck comments, clearly enjoying my reaction.

Translucent, viridian water pools in a hidden oasis guarded by craggy peaks. Tall and proud evergreens line the water’s edge, dotting the landscape with darker dashes of green.

“What is this place?”

Beck rattles off a series of German words. He catches my confused expression. There’s a grin. Then, “It’s a national park.”

He navigates down closer to the shore, and I follow closely behind, yanking off my sneakers so I can dip my toes in the water. It’s colder than I expect it to be. If not for the relentless sunshine beaming down on us, the air would feel too cold.

With one hand, Beck yanks his white t-shirt over his head, revealing every ridge and ripple of his torso. I survey the topography unabashedly. It’s a much better view than the surface of the mountain we’ve been climbing all morning.

“Feeling overheated?” I question, smirking.