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”They both stripped off their clothes. Jeff folded his dirty clothes in his suitcase while Amy tossed hers in the pile on the floor near the dresser. After letting Amy enter the bathroom first, he shut the door behind them and locked it.While Amy sat on the toilet, Jeff stepped into the tub and drew the curtain to start the shower. He adjusted the temperature, then stepped into the warm spray. Eventually, Amy flushed and slipped through the curtain to join him. She still seemed a little hesitant, so Jeff allowed her past into the shower spray while he turned the bar of soap over and over in a wet washcloth.Watching the water wash over Amy’s curves was captivating. She raised her arms to scratch her hair in the spray, which lifted her small breasts high on her chest. Her light-colored nipples were crinkled in the spray. The water flowed down from her breasts along the narrow curves of her body to run through the tangle of hair at the joining of her thighs.Jeff washed Amy with slow,. It felt like we were hiding, scared to talk and make a noise. She left a complicated arrangement of twigs, some kind of sign, a warning not to follow us I think, as she broke our camp and led me onward, even further west. It felt like she was on the run, too. And now we were on the run together.She had built some strength up in me again, and now we were making good progress together. Mataoka took a much more meandering route, often going from tree to tree rather than walking in the open between them, and I began to appreciate that we were now leaving far fewer signs that we’d passed. Were we still being tracked? If Mataoka had been the Indian behind me whom I had seen on the ridge, where there more behind her? Was it her they were chasing? Why had Mataoka come to me?And still we didn’t talk. We just crept on, into the vast endless backcountry, in silence.The river whose snaking cut I had seen from the highest ridge turned out to be a deep canyon, much too big to cross. Mataoka led me.
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