Chapter 4

Which a glance at the clock told him it was time to whip up a meal, find a book, and set out.

* * * *

The trail to the lake was a touch overgrown, but not so much that Keston had a hard time finding his way. Had it been the height of spring or even summer, things might have been different, and he likely would have received a series of scratches on his legs, courtesy of the bushes. As it was, he counted himself lucky that the mosquito population had nosedived over the last few weeks. Ticks, however, gave him the heebie-jeebies so he located a can of bug spray in a kitchen drawer and gave himself a decent coating.

Everything, including the can and a sweater, went into a backpack. He swapped sneakers for hiking boots and set out.