Page 111 of The Unlikely Pair

We resume walking along the trail.

“The forest seemed so bare and desolate when we were trudging through it, but now we’re living among it, it feels different,” he says.

I haven’t actually thought that, but he’s right. When we were first dropped into the forest, it seemed like such a hostile and foreign place.

But now we’re living here, we have time to notice the intimate details. Like the small cluster of late autumn mushrooms growing under a fallen log. They look almost ethereal, illuminated in the pale shaft of sunlight.

“Hey, look, that woodpecker is here again. I wonder if they’re territorial,” Toby says.

We stop to watch the woodpecker fearlessly hammering away at the bark of a nearby birch tree. He continues his rhythmic tapping, undisturbed by our presence.

“I’ve always been a hypothetical environmentalist. I’ve wanted to save the planet because it seems morally right for the next generations rather than having any particular attachment to wild places. But now, living here…” Toby’s voice trails off as hestares around us. “Now I feel like I finally understand what’s at stake, what we’ll be losing if we don’t protect places like this.”

“I’ve been accused of being teal by some members of my party,” I say.

Toby’s forehead furrows.

“Teal?”

“It’s a blend of blue and green. You know, blue for the Conservatives, green for the environmental movement.”

“Oh, sorry. Clearly, I didn’t spend enough time blending paints at kindergarten.”

“I can imagine you spent most of your time charming your classmates into giving you their lunch,” I comment.

“I may have had a lucrative arrangement going where I traded my carrot sticks for Nicola Benson’s chocolate muffin,” he says, and I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of a young Toby learning how his good looks and charm could gain him whatever he wanted.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I say.

“I’ve always had a precocious talent for negotiation, even back then,” he says with a smirk.

But his smile fades as we start walking again. “If you consider yourself an environmentalist, how do you reconcile that with your party’s stance on the fossil fuels industry?” he asks.

Toby isn’t attacking me. He actually harbors a genuine interest in my viewpoint.

“We always have to balance the environmental concerns against the human cost.”

“I understand there are multiple factors to consider,” he says. Then he holds his arms out theatrically. “But how can you ever put an amount on a place like this existing?”

It is a sparkling day. There was snowfall two days ago and a hard frost overnight, so everything glitters under the sunshine.

Nature is supercharged out here. The coldness. The beauty.

I slip a glance at Toby.

Despite my best efforts to remain unaffected, it’s impossible not to notice how stunning this man actually is. I’m finding it difficult to avoid acknowledging that his looks are only the beginning of what makes him so stunning to me.

“I agree, it is difficult to assign value to intangible things,” I reply.

“Do you think you’ll change anything about the way you approach politics when you get home?” he asks me.

“Maybe,” I say contemplatively. “You are correct that our experience here is a firsthand reminder of how the environment underpins everything.”

“I think I’ll do more to solve the problems of the number of people without housing.” Toby kicks at a patch of snow with his boot, a contemplative look on his face. “Now I’ve lived without a house, without knowing where my next meal is coming from, I understand the fear and uncertainty of not having a stable place to call home. No one should have to live with that kind of insecurity.”

“A strong economy will solve the problems of housing insecurity,” I say, and Toby rolls his eyes.

I stop at the next snare, which is empty, but somehow, the trigger has been disengaged. As I fix it, I can’t help pondering what else I will change when I get back home?