Chapter 56

IT WAS growing too dark to see when Brayden finally managed to drag Wil away from their makeshift target range and head back to camp. Wil's arms were sore and a little shaky, and his shoulder was probably going to be bruised, but he was still too high for any of it to worm through the euphoric haze. Brayden had been more than accommodating, finding bigger and bigger things to shoot from farther and farther away until he got tired of setting up targets and just had Wil shoot the trunks of trees. Not quite as satisfying--they didn't fly apart the way sticks and piles of leaves or small stones did--but it did help Wil adjust his aim.

"We're blazing a trail miles wide for anyone to follow," Brayden had muttered. "Let's just hope they miss where we turned off, and they might miss us altogether."

Wil absolutely could not bring himself to care.