I’m emotionally ripped into a million pieces at this point. If I had a mirror, I’m certain I wouldn’t recognize the reflection in it.

Needing to burn off some energy, I slip into some exercise clothes that are in desperate need of laundering and take off on a morning hike, sans Swarley because he refuses to move from his spot.

“Lovely.” I frown as I head up the small hill, attempting to pull my hair back into a ponytail. It’s maybe a half-inch ponytail.

My eyes and ears must look huge. I inwardly laugh at the thought. Yes, I care about my appearance. I like girly things. Nice things. Things in general. But I like people too. My family means the world to me. Do I have to be grounded and selfless to the point of never looking in a mirror or wearing a paper sack around, so—god forbid—no one thinks I care about myself more than is considered acceptable?

Screw the ponytail. I slip the band around my wrist since the pounding of my feet against the trail causes my short hair to fall out of it. I don’t even remember where we are. The past two days have been emotionally challenging. Time of day and day of the week don’t register with me, let alone our location in the sticks.

Oklahoma?

Texas?

Hell if I know.

I jog the trail until my incessant thoughts evaporate, until my only focus is the way my body feels, not how it looks. I jog until I’m physically exhausted … too exhausted for anything, short of a shower, to matter.

“Mommy!”

I slow to a stop and look around for the high-pitched voice. Tiny sobs and hiccups whisper just beyond the trail.

“Mommy!”

“Hello?” I follow the young cries.

“M-mommy …”

A little girl, maybe five or six, with ratty, light brown hair, and tear stained cheeks, peeks around a tree. A stuffed, gray rabbit hangs from her hand as her lower lip trembles.

“Hi. Are you lost?”

She nods, hazel eyes wide and unblinking. A ways back, I turned around to head back to the campsite, so I’m guessing we’re a quarter mile from it. Scanning the area, I don’t see or hear anyone else around.

“Did you camp last night?”

She nods, hugging her ragged stuffed bunny to her chest.

“My name is Avery. I’m going back to the camping area. I bet your mom is there. Do you want me to help you find her?” This is a tough thing to navigate. If her mom is like my sister, Sydney, then she’s drilled stranger danger into her little head. But this girl is clearly lost, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone looking for her around here.

The little girl nods, wipes her runny nose with her hand, and holds out the same hand for me to take. I stare at it for a few seconds. She could be my niece. She could also be the next Amber Alert if I don’t help her find her family. I take her hand, snot and all, and walk with her back to the campsite.