But rules are meant to be broken. And Dawn wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t already proved she was willing to break a couple.

So with Warden in the picture and this burgeoning love triangle starting to heat up, let’s take a minute to talk about Warden and Lucas and Dawn.

See, Dawn likes Lucas. Lucas is funny, and he’s kind, and he’s cute. He makes Dawn laugh a lot, and he makes the days go by quicker, and he’s always around if Dawn needs help with something.

Lucas is a good guy. The world needs more people like him.

But Warden?

Warden is mysterious.

Warden is dangerous.

Warden is brooding and smoldering and sexy.

Warden is Dawn’s kind of guy.

(Sorry, Lucas.)

Chapter 35

“I STOLE A TRUCK.”

It’s the next morning. Dawn can’t look at Warden without blushing—or checking if Amber is in the vicinity—but here they are hiking together again. (Sorry, Lucas.)

The morning was the usual. Up at sunrise. Chores. Breakfast. Pack. Hike.

Blah, blah, blah.

They’ve left the lake and walked through the forest a short ways to another lake, which they’ve skirted around, and they’re climbing through the trees again, but away from the ridge and up the other side of the valley, toward more cliffs and rocks and such.

Fart Mountain/Raven’s Claw looms ahead. It’s getting closer. It looks impossibly tall and, like, craggy. There still does not seem to be an optimal way to the top.

By the end of the day, the Bear Pack will make base camp at the bottom. By noon tomorrow, they’ll be standing at the top. But Dawn’s trying not to think about that. She’s realizing she might actually be super afraid of heights.

She’s trying to distract herself by asking Warden about his Origin Story.

“I stole a truck,” Warden says. “I stole it and I went on a little joyride and then I crashed it, and when I woke up in the hospital they told me I could either go to juvie or come here, so here I am.”

He’s from Oregon, he tells Dawn. Coos Bay.

“It’s a shithole,” he says. “There’s nothing to do but get drunk and try not to fight surfers.”

“You don’t surf?” Dawn asks.

“Hell no.” Warden gives her a look like he’s personally affronted. “Surfers are douchebags. No exceptions. They take over the beach and everywhere else that’s cool and if you’re not part of their crew, you’re like dog shit to them. You don’t surf, do you?”

Dawn laughs. “I’m from Sacramento.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, continuing up the hill. “Good. Don’t ever start.”