“How was it?”

“It was fun.”

“Jesus.”

“I mean, for a funeral.”

He drank from the dark bottle and stared out.  The Sun was setting over the Sea to the West and clouds were rising in the east.  He held the bottle out to his friend, who took it and broke the silence, “He was good.”

“Yeah...what’d they say at the service?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Come on, man.”

“We drank a lot. There was a fire that night. You know, same old bullshit. Telling stories, getting sappy—”

“Missing him.”

“Yeah.”

His friend drank and passed it.

“He was good.”

He raised the bottle to the hills that stretched on to the Northern Range, where white-capped peaks loomed on the horizon.

“Now he’ll always be.”

He snorted into the morning air as they yelled to him. He heard his name constantly. And they knew him to be always just too far.  So he resigned to check on them at each bend. He’d turn and make sure they were still following and that they weren’t too mad or worrying (he had quite the hold on these things). 

“Peek. Here. NOW.”

He heard it in the voice. It was all in the voice.  Better give him this one.

He turned and meandered back down the soft grassy side of the trail. The rocks in the middle wore on him after awhile. A leash was drawn and clipped to his back.

“Shit.”

A noise caught his ears and eyes. Scratching. Rocks falling. Something is coming. A woman’s voice. She’s loud—but the breathing. That breathing doesn’t belong to her. No way she can breath talking that much. 

A white head very similar to his pulled around the corner heaving.  He wore the end of a leash like his, only the white dog’s was on the verge of snapping.

“A wolf!” he thought.

He felt the leash tighten. Only enough line to smell.

“Your dog friendly?” This girl could only yell.

“Yep.”

“Mine too!”

The white wolf was a cheeky fellow. Constantly tensed against the leash. Eager to tear away.  He didn’t have much to say, and dragged the loud girl further on down the mountain, her trail of quiet friends following.

His leash was removed and they pushed on, hearing the girl talk her way down the mountain.

Her voice had finally faded away for some time. They were atop the ridge. Tall fir trees sheltered a wooden table and they were free to wander beyond the trail.  What he had considered yelling before was nothing compared to what was bellowed next.

“AHHHHHHHHHHBEARGET BACKHERE BEAR BEAR COME BEARRRRRR!”

“Shhh Peek.”

His master was looking down over the edge. He peeked over and, far below, he saw the white wolf running with half a leash. The loud girl was trying her damndest to catch up but it wasn’t looking good. He and his people watched sometime as the white wolf tore around each switchback corner with grace, and the girl lesser so.

With a click from his master, they continued on. He secretly hoped the white wolf found whatever he was hunting.

They said fuck it and bailed. Sold their couch. Bailed on their lease. Grabbed their grill and their blankets and loaded the dogs into the car.  They hit the road. Hiked under trees, up mountains, through streams.  Saw the Sea. Saw the Heartland. Saw the Sea again. They set out to live. Worked as Servants. Cleaned dishes. Made Beds. Carried Plates. Poured coffee. They ate at shitty diners, Under an overhang in the rain.  They loved each other.  Smiled at each other in the morning light in the blankets they packed ten years prior.  They fought. Cried in depression.  Counted their change.  They hung tough. Saw the World. Read good books. Smiled to each other to the end. 

Once there was a boy who sat alone on the coast in the rain and watched the horizon. He watched and waited and thought and wrote letter after letter.  Words poured out of him, and with the words came hope.

The words wouldn’t mean a damn thing without you. Now you climb mountains with me and we have one bed and a bunch of pans you cook in.  Now we have two dogs and a green hill where we live every day together. And I have all the hope in the world.