Branson is on his knees as he leans in close to the tiny flame and blows softly. Adding some tinder, the tiny flame explodes into a full fire. He feeds it more wood until it's able to stay lit on its own.
“There, that should help get the chill out of you,” he says, reaching out his hands to help me stand. I throw an arm over his shoulder and he gingerly helps me the few steps over to the fire. It’s not the fire that heats up my skin as Branson’s hands wrap around my waist to slowly help me sit on the ground. It’s the power in those hands. The force. But also the total control he has over his strength.
“Thanks, Branson,” I say, holding out my hands to feel the warmth.
“Please, call me Bran.”
Nodding, I agree. “Sure, I can do that. You can call me Mel if you want.”
He smiles as he lets his eyes drop from mine back to the fire. The orange and red flames flicker in his pupils, dancing in the darkness. His eyes are amazing. I can't ignore the glitter of gold and bronze as the light off the fire glows.
“So, are you hungry?” he asks.
“Yeah, I can eat.”
Digging around in his bag, he pulls out a couple cans of food and a small pan. He works in silence, and I marvel at the efficiency with which he prepares the meal. He expertly arranges three sticks above the fire and hangs the small pot from them. In seconds he has the cans open and the contents warming over the fire. Within minutes the aroma from the cooking food causes my stomach to rumble, and Buttercup lifts his head and looks at me with confusion.
“Don't worry,” Bran says. “I’ve got enough for all of us.” He stirs the soup a few times before he scoops it into three small bowls, handing me one. “Careful, it's hot.” He pours some water into Buttercup’s bowl before placing it on the ground and giving him a scratch on the head. “There you go, boy.”
Slurping a spoonful, I stir the soup with my spoon. It goes down my throat hot, warming me on the inside. I'm so lucky this man found me. I have no idea where I'd be right now if he hadn't come along.
“So,” I say, “I know we've seen each other around town, but tell me something about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” Eating a big bite of food, his eyes fall on mine.
“I don't know. Why were you out here today?”
“I came for a hike. You know. to get away. I like the silence. Same as you, I guess. But I also get my inspiration for my art out here. I mean, look at this place.” His gaze shifts around, admiring the natural beauty. “You can't find this anywhere but here.”
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” I can feel his words. He's right. Everything he just said is exactly why I’m out here right now. Well, everything aside from the art.
After losing both my parents, I need this time to myself. A time to reflect and just gather my thoughts. My world was turned upside down when my mother died. Even though I knew she was sick, nothing could prepare me for how I would feel once she was gone. And then my father soon after, it was overwhelming.
This place saved me.
“Now that the sun's down, the temperature is going to dip.”
“Yeah, and my clothes are still really wet too.”
Bran throws out a sleeping pad and a sleeping bag, laying it on the ground under his small A-frame tent. “I only have one, so we'll have to share. I know it's not ideal, but it's better than nothing. You can't sleep on the ground, you'll get hypothermia.”
Eyeing the sleeping bag, I toy with my lips. I should feel weird and awkward at the thought of snuggling up to a stranger, but I don't. Butterflies flutter through my belly and my heart starts hammering in my chest.
“I get it,” I say, calm and casual. “I don't want to freeze to death, but what about Buttercup? Will he be all right?”
“He'll be fine, but I have an extra sweatshirt I can put down for him.” Bran comes to my side and reaches down for me. “I'll help you up, then I'll turn around so you can take those wet clothes off.”
“Take them off?”
“They're soaked, you can't sleep in them. We can hang them over the fire though and they'll be good for the morning.” I'm about to protest, but he holds up his hand. “I'm not trying to be a creep, I swear. I just know being in wet clothes when the temperature drops is a recipe for disaster. For you and me since we’re sharing the sleep bag.”