She stood and the forgotten book dropped to the ground with an audible crunch. Grasping the handle of the machete, she half fell, half leaped behind the log. What to do now? She was literally at the end of her rope, so flight into the woods was unwise. The odds of finding this spot again had to be slim to nothing. The muscles in her legs complained as she squatted behind the log, peering over the rotting bark. The machete felt heavy in her sweating palm. Would she be able to use it?
A tall figure emerged from the brush and she gasped with relief.
"Justin! Thank God. I thought you were some kind of wild animal."
He gave her a wry smile. "That's been debated a time or two." He tugged on the twine. "Clever. It serves a dual purpose. It'll guide you out of the forest - if you're conscious - and a rescue team to your body if you're not." His dark gaze met hers in a stern way. "What would you have done if it had been a bear?"
"A bear? Are there bears out here?" She glanced nervously around the brush and back at him. "Are you trying to scare me?"
"There are bears out here. Didn't you read that book on Arkansas wildlife?" The scowl made the color of his eyes look almost brown.
"Yes, but I thought that was south of here - in the more remote regions."
A spark of humor glimmered in his eyes. "More remote? Just how much more remote do you think it gets?"
She brought the machete down with a dull thud, anchoring the blade in the log. "How would I know? This is the only part of Arkansas I've ever seen. I've heard about children walking to school barefoot, but this area isn't much different than parts of California.
He rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Don't believe everything you hear - especially from outsiders."
Why was he getting so miffed, and whom did he consider outsiders? It sounded like he was getting a little lost in his part. She leaned over the log and retrieved the book.
"You should be proud of me. I've identified twenty-five plants on this trek. Do you know how many edible plants grow naturally in our own front yards? It's ironic. We plow them under so we can plant a garden and then spend half our time pulling them out of it so we can grow something to eat."
"I think I followed that." He sauntered over to her and rested one foot on the log. "Sure, you can eat those weeds, but what do they taste like? And how far would you have to travel to get enough for one meal?"