The girl is half dreaming.
Only half, because it is something she almost remembers.
It is a cold day, very late in the spring or early in the summer. The wind tears through her jacket, and even walking in the sun does not help. The man has been leading her across valleys and ridges for hours, and it is far past lunchtime. Her back aches from the pack the man gave her that morning, and what feels like blisters upon blisters cover her feet.
"We should be close," the man mutters. He is frustrated, and glares at his map.
The girl is silent. She does not know where they are going. But she does know they are in Colorado. She peeked at the road signs as she dozed in the back seat of the rented car.
They are looking for something. Whatever it is, the something is far away from any towns, and hidden somewhere among the mountains. The girl decides she does not like mountains up close. The man has stopped, and is staring at his map. The girl frowns suddenly; there is something off, something odd