 Mason looked around the pit. He walked the few feet from one end to the other, then gazed up for a minute. “Riece, someone dug this pit and covered it in such a way that when some animal walked on it, the wood would give way. There is no sign of anything being down here, no bones or scat remains, nothing.” “So?” “So that makes me think whoever did this comes back and checks it often. I’d much rather you were up there”—Mason pointed up—“than down here if they come back and find us. Honestly the more I think about why this might be here, the more it’s starting to creep me out.” He put one hand on Riece’s shoulder. “All you have to do is leave me your water. Climb back up. Set off your locator beacon and see if you can get cell reception. Sit down and wait. People will show up to help.” “You said it could be a day or more if we needed help. You won’t have any food.” “It’ll take me a month to starve to death. I might be cranky after a day or two, but it won’t kill me,” Mason said. “You don’t need the rope to get back down the gully, do you?” Mason shrugged. “Probably not. I also don’t want you stuck in here alone. I’d rather you were….” “Were what?” Riece looked up at the opening when they heard movement, but Mason didn’t see a thing. “Free,” Mason said in a soft voice. “So I can run away?” Riece asked. Mason nodded, and Riece shook his head. “I wouldn’t run.” Mason sighed. His argument was thin, and he knew it. Worse, so did Riece. It made more sense for Mason, who was much more capable in this territory, to go retrieve some rope. Getting up to where he’d tied the rope off and bringing it down wouldn’t take him long. That he was so hesitant to leave Riece for what would likely be no more than an hour made no sense. Heaving another sigh Mason asked, “You think you can boost me high enough?” “Sure.” Mason moved his hand to the back of Riece’s neck and squeezed, then pulled him in and gently kissed his forehead. Dirt fell down the edge of the pit, and at the same time, Mason heard a male voice say, “Well don’t you boys look like you’ve gotten yourselves into a real pickle.” Mason and Riece looked up. Almost immediately Riece’s gaze shifted to Mason, and he felt Riece tense. Glancing around the pit, Mason snorted and used the back of one hand to nudge Riece back a step while he took a step forward. “That’s one way to put it,” Mason said. “Have any rope?” The man stood there staring down at them, and for a few seconds, Mason worried he’d turn around and leave. Or worse, start firing the crossbow he held at them. Mason had the distinct impression he was being sized up the same way Mason was judging this man. He looked to be in his fifties or maybe early sixties, but in good shape, and even without the crossbow, Mason wouldn’t want to tangle with him. His hair was short and stylish, more salt than pepper. He carried himself like a man who was used to issuing orders and having them followed. The clothing he wore was expensive but well-worn. To Mason he appeared to be a man comfortable in the outdoors, probably a hunter. The man turned and set the crossbow down, then crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Mason and Riece as he spoke to someone out of Mason’s line of vision. “Jason, bring a line over, will you?”    
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