Chapter 16: The Thrill Of Victory




      "Wine anyone?" enjoins FM uncorking a surprise bottle of Chianti to go with our camp spaghetti and pot salad.

"I knew there was a reason I love you," I retort, accepting a pour into the Biology department's ceramic mug. 

"Don't damn us with your faint praise," she chides with mock indignation, hanging the bottle from a branch by it's straw fiasco.

"Here's to there being an us!" I chuckle, astonished to be tent camping with my muse under a starlit sky filtering through the rhododendron grove hiding our tent. 



     After the ledge rescue Freida-Mae had wanted to lie on the boulder to watch the night sky, but I reminded her that blacklight collection was still needed for the lower elevation site. She laid down anyway, but soon saw the research written in the stars. 

     We made quick work of the trail down that was now glowing in the starlight. Then she'd set to work counting insects - triple the number of aquatic fliers and a third of the moths - while I reheated the spaghetti and tossed the salad. 

     My interest in this spirited person had started the moment I caught a glimpse of her skating around the wooden indoor track. Her dodging of my serpentine overtures after that first encounter had only piqued that attraction. Our night together after the Camptown party had blossomed that allure into full-fledged infatuation.



     "It's getting chilly out here," she shivers, edging closer to the fire circle we'd found at the stealth campsite. 

"Still at two-thousand feet," I point out, unable to stop myself from explaining the precipitous fall in temperature. "Want my sweatshirt?"

"I've got a better idea," she schemes with a mischievous grin, tipping the rest of the wine into our mugs. "Let's finish this bottle and get warm between the sleeping bags."





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