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The older guide had more details about the black-stained cliffs surrounding the trail and the reflective pools they were likely to encounter in the second half of the hike. Canaan only half heard all the tidbits as he focused on keeping up with the front group. Renzo easily matched the lead guide’s pace, but some of the others struggled, and it wasn’t long until the tight clump of people they’d started as stretched out. Thank God, Damian and Eric stuck with the slower group, and they were spared more barbs.
They’d been at it at least a couple of hours when Canaan’s boot started rubbing weird. Not wanting to make a thing about his discomfort, he slunk to the edge of their group and stayed behind as they started climbing natural steps—thin strata of rock—that led to the next level section. He figured he’d fix his shoe and just wait for the slow group to turn up. He could deal with Damian and Eric, but he didn’t want to detract from Renzo’s clear enjoyment of listening to the guide. But he’d barely removed his boot when Reno came jogging back down the trail.
“What the heck are you doing? I thought maybe you’d slipped over the edge.” Renzo was barely out of breath despite doubling back.
“Nah. Something’s wrong with my boot. You can go on with the lead group.”
“No way. Not leaving you. This isn’t a good solo trail.”
“I’ll fix this and wait for one of the slower groups.” Canaan felt around in the shoe, trying to uncover what was causing the pain.
“Not leaving you to your hungover ex. I don’t trust him not to need rescuing before the day is done.” Renzo paused and studied Canaan carefully. “Unless you want to walk with him?”
“God, no. I’d be keeping up with you guys if my boot would only cooperate.” Canaan still couldn’t figure out what the issue was. No stick or rock or any other debris in there.
“Let me see.” Renzo removed the boot from Canaan’s hands. “You’ve got a label in here. Maybe that’s it?” Without waiting for Canaan’s okay, he whipped out a pocketknife, removed the inside label.
“Not sure.” Canaan tried the boot back on. “Still pinches weird.”
“Could be that your boots are simply too new.” Frowning, Renzo dug in his pack. “Let’s see your foot. Blisters already?”
“I don’t think so.” Canaan took the boot back off and peeled back the sock. A faint red mark marred his heel and another was on the top of his foot.
“Let’s put bandages on the marks, keep them from turning into blisters.” Renzo set to doctoring Canaan’s foot, which was just plain weird, the way Renzo gave him his complete attention and didn’t tell him to muscle through the discomfort. Instead, Renzo arranged bandages, then did a thing where he used his strong thumbs to stretch the back of the boot.
“You’re good at this.” Canaan couldn’t keep the wonder from his voice—Renzo as caretaker was something new.
“Out in the field, blisters are serious business. Last thing we need is a SEAL with an infection or unable to run. We take care of our feet.” Renzo continued to frown as he worked. “How do you feel, for real? Want to turn back? We’re not halfway yet.”
“Close enough.” No way was Canaan quitting. The bandages would help. And more to the point, he really didn’t want to turn around, have to pass the slow group, look like he couldn’t hack this. “Do you want to wait for others or try to catch the front group?”
“I’ve got no interest in spending more time with your ex and his weasel of a boyfriend. Let’s try to catch up but be smart about it—they’ll probably stop for water and more pictures soon. No need for us to haul ass and risk damaging your foot further.”
Canaan was surprised that no one else from the group had come through while they’d been stopped. The rear group must have stopped more frequently than the front group in addition to their slower pace. He and Renzo made their way up the natural staircase, past a reflecting pool, into a higher, tighter area, cutting through thin rock layers that stretched skyward. The narrow canyon curved so that they could no longer see the entrance or the exit, giving the impression that they were alone on an alien landscape.
“I’ve got to get a picture of this.” He dug his phone out of his daypack—it was his only camera at the moment. He’d send a picture to Grandpa when they were back in cell phone range.
“Pose for me?” he joked at Renzo. “Promise to not tag you on social media. This one’s just for me.”
“Something like this?” Renzo bounded up a boulder and stood on one foot.
“Perfect.” He snapped the picture, then looked at the screen. “Why is it so dark?”
