WOLFVILLE

2.3: Dog Can't Save You Now

It felt strange driving to Gaspereau Mountain without picking up Julia and Brutus, but it felt liberating too, knowing that nobody could stop her from doing anything today. She might pay for it later if her parents found out, but until then, Timmory could relish the solitude and freedom she'd been given to explore on her own.

In the parking lot, she noticed a few cars already there; a red minivan and a black sedan sat together, and a rusty white pickup truck sat far off on the other side. She parked in the corner of the parking lot, strapped her backpack onto her shoulders and slung her camera around her neck. A map of the mountain's hiking trails was folded and tucked into her back pocket, but Timmory didn't really need it. She'd walked the mountain so many times it was a second home to her. Sending one last text to Julia to reassure her friend that they were still on good terms, Timmory hesitated and looked toward the trail. It was a clear, warm day, and she had her phone. What could go wrong?

This wilderness was her domain. Timmory could forget who she was out here, if only for a moment.

She plunged into the woods, driven by the chill of dawn. A breeze caressed the yellowing boughs of aspen leaves. Above, the air swelled with joyous and energetic birdsong in the wake of sunrise, and Timmory stopped often to listen. She memorized a few bird calls; even now as they all mingled into one song, she could pick out the species. There were warblers, sparrows and wrens and ravens, and in the distance she heard the knocking of a woodpecker while golden eagles cast silent shadows from above. She would brandish her camera, searching the canopy for movement and pointing her lens at every flutter of wings. The pale-yellow morning cast loving warmth over each subject that accentuated their earthy hues. She reviewed her photos before moving on.

The main trail took her south along the western edge of the mountain. The trail climbed the mountainside on its south end, where the incline wasn't as steep, then it would fall again as it rounded the eastern edge and curled north, back to the parking lot. That trail took a few hours and she'd be finished by two in the afternoon. But there were other, smaller trails of higher difficulty that would take her higher up the mountain to cliffsides that overlooked the town several kilometers away. If she meandered along the vertical trails, she wouldn't be back at her car until around five, which was the ultimate goal. Rounding the western edge, Timmory met a fork in the trails. The main trail continued south, while a narrow path carved to the east, leading her straight up the mountain. Only a few minutes into the path did it become rocky and Timmory had to clamber up ledges, reaching for titanic slabs of granite that pierced the earth. This smaller trail wasn't marked that well, but she still knew the way; every opening in the trees, every flattened swathe of leaf litter was an indication of where to go. She followed in the footsteps of countless explorers ahead of her, confident in navigation.

Timmory paused often to gulp from her water bottle. Walking on an incline exhausted her ankles and knees, so she took a break halfway up the mountain, sitting herself on the edge of a rock overlooking a small stream. There, she took off her backpack and munched on a granola bar as she looked through the trees. The silence settled in after the birdsong died away. The forest was still and for a moment she could believe that she wasn't even there—merely observing, like she was just another piece of the landscape, like she belonged. There was a tranquility here that she never could have achieved with Julia and Brutus.

Suddenly, a rustle. Then a crashing in the undergrowth beyond where she could see. Timmory's eyes snapped to the trees, then above as she watched a cloud of birds take to the air, chattering as they swirled and undulated and sought shelter elsewhere. The sound sent her heart thumping, but as she watched, the forest relaxed and breathed evenly again.

"Weird," she said out loud. Crumpling up the wrapper, she stuffed it in a pocket and threw her backpack on, pulling to her feet.

It took another hour to reach the cliffside. The trees thinned and she saw more of the sky between the leaves. She emerged from the trail onto a broad ledge of dirt and rock that jutted from the ground like a stubborn lip, dotted with bushes that swayed as the wind grew stronger. Timmory drank in the fresh air, standing tall at the edge and looking over the sloping landscape below. Green, yellow, and orange treetops swept from the mountain like multi-coloured carpet crisscrossed by narrow walking trails. Crystalline creeks poured down the slope, most dispersing in a web of thin fingers or stopping at the concrete slabs of parking lots at its base. She saw stark grey roads running along either side of the mountain, between the forest and into the hills, and cradled in the thick masses of wildlife, she saw Wolfville sprawling ahead. Tiny cars crawled the streets like ants in the grass, the roof of her house barely distinguishable among rows of suburbia. Beyond the town, the deep blue ocean hugged a barren shoreline.