34 | Perspective

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Dew drops clung heavily to the dense vegetation, crowding the well-worn deer path, gradually soaking through Ryan's thick flannel shirt. Every once in a while, a low branch or cluster of leaves would thwack wetly against his face and neck, mingling with the sweat already slickening his skin. He trudged on, his hiking boots rhythmically thudding against the loamy earth. Birds were beginning to chirp, and a few red squirrels were chattering far above his head, while Layla rustled through the undergrowth off to his left.

He only took note of his environment peripherally, though. He was too lost in thought to take in the details of his surroundings, while somehow still managing, simultaneously, to remain alert to them. He began to ascend the stony ridge, and took pleasure in the slight burn that warmed his thigh muscles the higher he climbed. He'd left the cabin about an hour before dawn, when the sky was just starting to lighten. The trail was so familiar to him that his pace barely slackened, even in the dim light.

Sleep was still proving to be elusive, but the solitude, and the fresh, crisp air was providing the perfect therapy for his muddled brain and aching heart. After just a few days of hiking, swimming, fishing, and lengthy bouts of quiet reflection, he was already more settled.

With a couple of long, reaching strides, he crested the top of the ridge. He stood for a moment, his chest rising and falling deeply as he worked to regulate his breathing. Shrugging out of the thick flannel shirt, which had become too warm after his exertion, he used it to mop his sweaty brow, and then stuffed it inside his pack. He made his way to the towering red cedar, standing like a sentinel at the top-most point, and after sprinkling some tobacco at its base, sank to the ground overlooking the valley.

The expanse of forest that spread out like a tapestry, never failed to awe him. The morning light saturated the sky in rapidly shifting colors of reds, blues, and purples, shot through with vibrant yellows and oranges. It resembled what might happen if a painter spilled a glass of water over their pallet, and it bled onto the surrounding countryside. Miles of dense forest in hues of rich greens, blanketed the gentle hills, sloping away from the ridge he sat atop. Mist was thick and heavy, steaming up from the damp ground, as the dew began to burn away under the warming rays of the sun.

As always, the elevated perspective filled him with clarity, a light-headed orderliness that he craved, but often proved elusive. Seeing such vast wilderness in miniature, reminded him that there was a bigger picture—a grand scheme that he couldn't quite grasp. It made him feel small and insignificant, and was, inexplicably, comforting, bringing to the fore what was most important.

Memories of Gramps always came to him first. He was the one who first dragged Ryan up to this place, more than twenty years before. The cedar he was currently sitting beneath was also the last resting place for his ashes. He didn't dwell on Gramps for long this morning, though.

His Ma came next. That ache was going to take a long time to subside. It still wasn't real that she was gone. Multiple times a day he had the urge to call and check on her before remembering she wasn't there anymore, and then the ache would flare and briefly intensify. At least, he noted, each time the pain eased up a little more, and he was having to remind himself less and less, but something told him that void would never quite go away.

Mostly, though, his thoughts were occupied by a certain wild-haired, sassy-tongued, doe-eyed woman. When he woke from his short slumber this morning, he'd been greeted by yet another new voicemail. He still hadn't responded to the others, but he'd listened to them all last night. He smirked a little when he recalled the one this morning. She must have set an alarm to wake up early enough to leave it.

Her voice had sounded low, and husky with sleep. It vibrated through the phone, rasping against his senses like truck tires grinding slowly over gravel, and sending pleasurable tingles racing all over his body:

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