whisper.
He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my leg. He expertly maneuvering the Jeep around the biggest bumps and dips to make sure I’m not jostled around too much. I wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at. While he’s concentrating on the drive, it’s the perfect time to steal glances over at him. Veins stand out against his forearms. My eyes skip over the tattoo, like I don’t want it to be part of him. It is part of him, just like it will forever be part of me, but I know that’s not who he is.
“Aren’t you curious about where we’re heading?” he asks.
I’d been so caught up in him that I completely forgot to ask. “Of course. I just thought you were keeping it a surprise.”
He considers it. “No, it’s not a surprise. Just a special kind of training I think you’ll like.”
What did I think this was … a date? I’m an idiot. I turn to look out the open door as we push through the brush. The trees are so close, branches reach in through and brush across our arms.
Will stops, and we climb out. I struggle to keep up. Even walking seems to suck the air from my lungs.
“Don’t worry, we won’t go far.”
I have to stop every fifteen seconds to lean over and hold my side while I catch my breath. The third time it happens, Will stops and frowns. He helps me sit down on a nearby log. “Okay, you just wait here. I’ll be right back.”
He drops his backpack near my feet and sets off through the thickest part of the woods.
I soon lose sight him and wonder what kind of lesson this is going to be. A few minutes later, he comes back, carrying an arm load of plants and roots.
“Botany lesson?” I ask when he gets closer.
“Sort of.” He sits down beside me on the log and arranges the plants in between us. “And a picnic – I guess.”
I look at him like he’s crazy. Weeds and muddy roots are not my idea of a picnic.
He smiles. “Trust me, okay?” He pulls a water bottle from his bag and rinses the dirt from the roots, cleaning them with his hands.
There are a few things I recognize on the log. Dandelions and blackberries, but the rest certainly don’t look edible.
“These are gooseberries,” he says, dropping a little green berry into my palm. I inspect it closer. It’s covered in fine green hairs. He shows me the plant that they come from, pointing out its skinny stalk laced with sharp spines.
“Try it.” He pops one into his mouth first.
I expect the berry to be sweet, but it’s bitter, like biting into a sour green apple. The texture is firm and tangy.
“Not horrible, right?”
I take another. Though it’s not great, it’s not terrible either. And I am actually hungry.
“These are nettles,” he says. He holds the weed out for me to take it. It’s a long stalk filled with oblong, jagged-edged leaves.
“You can eat this?”
He nods. “With most of these, boiling or steaming them will get rid of the bitter taste, but they’re just fine to eat raw, too. They may not taste great, but they’ll keep you alive.”
He tears off a leaf and offers it to me. “Smell it.”
“Smells like sour milk.” He nods. I put it in my mouth. It feels wrong, but I chew it up and swallow. “It tastes sour too.” I make a face.
“Here.” He passes me the water bottle.
I swish the water around, clearing my mouth.
Next, we try the dandelion leaves, then a few blackberries, which are ripe and sweet. Then I take a small bite of the root he offers me. It’s bitter and gritty with sand, but I choke it down.
“Okay, I saved the best for last.” When I see what he’s holding, I’m doubtful. It’s a brown nut covered in a hairy white tuft. “It’s a chestnut.”
“Oh.”
“They come from that tree, right over there.” He points and my gaze follows. “Close your eyes.” I look over at him, trying to figure out what he intends to do. “Close them,” he says softly. I release a sigh and close my eyes. “Describe the tree to me.”
I try to remember the tree from my quick glance. I would have paid better attention if I’d known there’d be a test. “It’s a large tree.” I feel stupid. “It has jagged saw-toothed leaves,” I say, remembering the shape.
“Good. And the most important