“You’ll need this,” Reed said, tossing a headlamp across the truck to him, the lamp bouncing off Spud’s chest and falling to the ground. Using the Tahoe’s dome light, Spud figured out how to strap the light to his head and turn it on.

“When we head into the woods, I’ll be taking point,” Reed said, “so you’re in charge of Pip.”

Spud walked to the rear of the Tahoe and got his backpack out, setting it on the ground near the trail. Then he went to the backseat and lifted Pip out. Reed stood at the tail of the Tahoe doing something with his own backpack. Spud heard the sound of a zipper open and close; then Reed unloaded his pack from the truck and set it next to Spud’s.

“Stay here,” Reed said. “I’m gonna ditch the truck.”

He climbed into the Tahoe and drove out of the parking area toward the main road, crossing a small bridge that had carried them over a creek. About a hundred yards beyond the creek, he hit the gas and plunged the truck deep into a stand of trees, ramming it into the woods as far as it would go.

As he waited for Reed to come back, Spud looked inside of his backpack to find a sleeping bag, a pad, three bottles of water, a mess kit, a small cookstove, and a canister of propane. Spud would also be carrying Pip’s sleeping bag and clothing. Spud took note that his pack carried no food, no money, and no weapon, not even a hatchet or a Swiss army knife.

Reed had also packed no spare clothing for Spud. Spike had once told him that there was no such thing as bad weather in Minnesota, only bad clothing. Pip was decked out in a down coat over a fleece shirt over a wool undershirt. The boy’s pants were the kind you might wear in a duck blind, and his boots and gloves were high end. Reed was similarly dressed.

Spud, on the other hand, wore the dress coat and leather gloves that he had worn to visit his lawyer that morning—warm enough for walking around town but definitely not designed for November in the Northwoods. His shirt and jeans were cotton and denim, and his shoes were a cross between a sneaker and a boot. The cold seeped in through a thousand gaps.

His father would have been disappointed in how ill prepared he was for the coming journey, but then again, much of what Spud had done recently would have disappointed his father. Saving Pip from Reed might make up for some of Spud’s failings, but not all of them.

“What are we doing here?” Pip asked.

“We’re going for a hike,” Spud said.

“But… it’s dark.”

“Haven’t you ever been on a night hike before? It’s fun.”

There would be nothing fun about what they were about to do, but Spud wanted to buoy Pip’s spirit. That was what a good father would do, wasn’t it?