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four

Byron

"You think Rangers scare me?" I snarl back as Sawyer fumbles to start live streaming.

Her phone is shaking in her hands.

Seeing her standing her ground makes me surge with an emotion I'd never felt before. I want to protect her. She had no idea what she was getting into when she chained herself here, and I'd be damned if anything bad would happen to her now. I'd do everything I could to keep her safe.

"May I remind you that you're trespassing on private property?"

I grind my teeth. All of this land used to belong to the people. These private companies were buying it to clear in swathes.

"If you're so confident, call the Rangers," I dare. "I bet you any money that I know them better than you. They'll be on our side, guaranteed."

The mustache man frowns and crinkles the white legal paper in his hand.

I've pissed him off now. Good. Let's go for the jugular, shall we? "So fuck off back to whatever corporate office you came from," I continue. "Leave the trees to those who actually give a shit."

"Me, too. I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you. And neither is this tree," Sawyer declares, her eyes blazing with determination. She holds up her phone, capturing the entire scene. " Because I'm live-streaming this. Every single one of my followers will see you trying to strong-arm a couple of civilians. I don't think your bosses will be too happy about that."

The logger's face turns a shade of red that I didn't know was possible. He sputters, but no words come out.

Sawyer grins at me, her eyes sparkling with victory.

"He's got you there, buddy," I add.

The other loggers exchange uncertain looks but don't make a move to intervene. They know as well as I do that this standoff just got a whole lot more complicated. The mustache man curses under his breath, storming off to his ATV.

I turn to her, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "Well, that was a hell of a move," I say, impressed.

She grins back at me, her eyes still blazing with determination. "I told you I wasn't going down without a fight," she says. "Never underestimate the power of social media."

Sawyer pauses, her eyes flicking back and forth as she reads the countless messages coming in. "Looks like we'll have backup soon enough."

"Good," I groan, leaning against the tree. "This dampness is going to give me arthritis."

Sawyer presses her lips together, her gaze softening. She pauses the live stream. "You don't have to stay, you know."

"I'm not leaving you," I promise.

Those words make a fire spark in my chest. I can't explain why, but this young city girl might just be my soulmate. I have never believed in that stuff until now. I'd spent most of my life alone, but now I want to spend it with her.

The rain is relentless.

We'd spent the afternoon around my tiny cooking fire. I hated myself for not bringing proper shelter, like a tent, but it wouldn't have done us much good while bound together anyway.

Sawyer shivered. "It's freezing," she whimpers, holding the wool blanket around herself.

"And it's only September. Wait until winter," I can't help but smirk as I say the usual line the locals tell all of the tourists. We're proud of our winters up here in the north. The cold builds character.

Sawyer doesn't respond, and I regret my words. "Hey," I try in a softer tone. "Your backup should be here soon, right?"

"As long as the weather is like this, who knows?"

It seems that the city folk are afraid of driving in storms. For people who call themselves activists, they sure do avoid a lot of inconveniences. Sawyer is the only one with balls. Figuratively, of course.

My eyes flick over her body. Her anorak coat is almost soaked through."We can't stay out here like this," I tell her. "You're going to catch your death."

"I'll be fine," she raises her chin defiantly. "I can handle a little rain."

I know she's trying to be tough, but her teeth are chattering. "Sawyer, come on. We can't stay out here in this storm. You'll get hypothermia."

"You're not the boss of me," she retorts, but her voice lacks its usual fire.

I sigh, running a hand through my wet hair. "I know. But I am the one with the survival training and the shelter. So, how about you let me take care of you, just this once?"

She looks at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable. Then, she nods, giving in.

"Good," I grit out before straining against the chain to get more supplies out of my bag. I grumbled to myself. There wasn't much here, but I'd have to make it due.

I fish out a small, compacted tarp and wrestle it open, shaking it free of the rain. It's not much, but it'll have to do. I toss it over our heads, securing the bottom using stakes in the soft ground. I bring the top up over our heads and gently screw it into the thick bark of the tree.

Sawyer sucks in a breath, no doubt about to lay into me for harming the tree.

"It's fine," I say before she can get a word out. "A big tree like this won't notice. Woodpeckers do more damage than this."

I lay another tarp under our feet and relight the cooking fire. There should be enough gas to last another day, and I have two more freeze-dried chili packs to eat.

Now that we're somewhat protected from the rain, I can breathe easier.

Sawyer huddles closer to me, her body shivering with cold.

I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. Having her in my arms feels right. I chuckle softly to myself at the realization.

"What is it?" she asks, her voice muffled against my chest.

"Just thinking how lucky you are that I happened to be in the area," I admit. "You're really brave, but you couldn't have made it out here on your own. No tent, no blanket, nothing but protein bars and a smartphone." I shake my head.

I expect her to protest, but she doesn't.

"You're right," she says after a pause. "Thank you for being here with me."

There's a softness in her voice that I've never heard before, a vulnerability that tugs at my heart. I press a kiss to the top of her head, feeling her body relax into mine. "You're welcome," I murmur, my voice barely audible over the rain.

We sit there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the rain drumming against the tarp above us. The fire crackles softly, casting a warm glow.

I can feel her breaths slowing, her body growing heavier against mine. I know she's drifting off to sleep, and I don't blame her. The last two days have been long and grueling, and the warmth of the small fire and my embrace is probably the most comfortable she's been in hours.

I close my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to relax against the tree, the gentle hum of the rain and the soft rhythm of her breathing lulling me into a state of calm.

What was this firecracker city girl doing to me? The icy walls that I’d built around my heart were beginning to fall. And I… liked it.

But, despite all this comfort, worry gnawed away at me. How was I going to tell her that this was probably a lost cause? One way or another, the logging company would win. They always did. No amount of live streaming or pretty words would change that. We were just delaying the inevitable, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her.