When I finally crest the hill, I am met with more darkness. It is 5:30 pm in November, so it has become dark fairly early. I stop at the top and become aware of the rolled up map I had been clenching in my left fist. I begin to unroll it when I hear quiet footsteps approaching me. I had forgotten about the other people out here.

Since my interaction with my dad I am not as jumpy, and I turn calmly to see who it is. It’s Jimmy, one of the fifth grade boy scouts in the troop. It’s hard to believe that they're sending kids this young out here. Once I get over my disbelief, I call Jimmy over. I recognize the look on his face as the one formerly on mine. His is more obvious—his brow furrowed, skin pale, and shivering from the cold.

“Hey, Jimmy, come over here. I've got a map we can look at.” He picks up his speed and meets me. I point, “So, we started here and we just have to keep walking half a mile further to look around, then we're just going to walk back. It will be real easy. And I'll be here with you.”

His slight shoulders begin to drop and relief washes across his face as he gives me a timid nod. I mirror his nod, trying to reassure myself too. I grab Jimmy's hand and we start down the hill together. Our feet slip and slide from the muddy earth beneath the blanket of leaves. We had had heavy rainfall the night before. As we traverse further into the valley, a whooshing sound pricks my ears. I recall the small waterfall I had seen on the map. The valley must be a buffer, preventing the noise from sounding beyond its limits. I visualize the map and note that the furthest point we need to go is near
the river the waterfall spills into.