This story is a continuation of the Wild Rose adventure, and involves infidelity as a theme, if that offends you, please read something else. If you enjoy this piece, please rate it accordingly.
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It was now well into Spring of Rose's first year living out in the wild. She had learned how to make needles out of bone, for fixing clothes and making things with the fur of her kills. She had made some moccasins early in the spring, but hadn't tanned the hide well, and the footwear were already in need of repair. Rose had experimented with different natural tanning agents and had found that old dried out manzanita leaves worked the best so far and was tanning more hides now to make boots and maybe a blanket. The tanning process took a lot longer than she had expected it to and hoped the hides would be cured in time to complete her planned projects. It would help to keep her evenings busy throughout summer and to prepare for the winter to come. Rose knew she needed to be diligent with her time if she were to continue to survive out here.
She had even hiked out a few times, and had driven to Bishop for some more supplies that would make survival a little more comfortable for her. She had paid cash for her supplies, as always, trying to keep a low profile, which was nearly impossible for her to do. She made an impression wherever she went, both men and women noticed her. Men mostly gawking at her long tan legs and ample tan cleavage. Rose always changed into regular clothes she kept in her jeep before heading into town to keep a lower profile. She noticed envy or admiration in women she came in contact with. Rose knew that she stood out in a crowd, so made these trips as infrequently as possible, and kept talking to a minimum, most times able to get by with just a nod.
She had almost not survived her first winter out here. She had nearly starved because she had trouble keeping a fire going. She needed to ensure that wouldn't happen again. She had been stocking dried meat so the hunger was taken care of, she just needed to make sure she could stay warm and her fire lit, she bought a blow torch and a starter for it, in case her flint stone and knife failed to light the fodder. Rose always made sure to not take her cell phone when heading into civilization, knowing that it could be tracked, and she didn't want to be found.
Rose often thought about Steve, she hoped he was well. Every now and then, the urge arose to reach out to him, but she knew that she had done the right thing by terminating things. The guilt she had felt when her husband had died had almost killed her. She had never mentioned it out loud, but had thought many times even before meeting Steve that she would be better off if her spouse just died, and then he had. Rose was having trouble living with that, especially since she had found so much peace and companionship with Steve, a man who accepted her for who she was and never criticized her. It had been the happiest she had ever been in her life. She hadn't been bothered that he felt the obligation to his wife, she had respected him much more because of that fact.
She hadn't told Steve when her husband had died, she had just extracted herself from him and their relationship, spending more and more time in the mountains until she sold her house and moved out there permanently.
She had even gone as far as to block Steve's number. Not for any malicious reason, but rather because she had almost talked herself out of what she knew needed to be done; she had shown that kind of weakness before when she had allowed her husband to manipulate her decisions, to spite the differences in her circumstances, she still believed that she needed this. Not for anyone else, but to prove to herself that she could do anything even survive without a benefactor in one of the harshest, but beautiful, places on the planet.
She started building a semi permanent residence for herself, keeping her busy between fishing or checking her various traps. She had tried her hand at taking down a buck with her compound bow and had lost three of her arrows for the effort. She had tried tracking the deer, hoping that it would drop, but by the time it had succumbed to its injuries, a cougar had made the buck her family's next meal.
Rose had a folding saw that was more than capable of cutting medium sized birch trees into usable timbers, and though it took a while, she was thankful that she was thinking almost six months ahead in planning her shelter.
What Rose didn't realize was that it was well into June when she started the shelter, not thinking about the fact that spring would arrive much later in the alpine than down in the lower valleys.
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Steve had the foresight to purchase about 20 wildlife hunting cameras and tote them up in his backpack to where he had found Rose's stockpile of equipment, and had mounted most of them aimed in various directions radiating outward from her stage camp, but a few he aimed at her stockpile.
He had tried to predict her traffic patterns which she had actually been extremely efficient at masking, or even hiding all together. He noted this when he brushed the layer of pine needles away to examine the top soil underneath it. She had purposely hidden her tracks in the area.
Steve had driven home to let his wife know that he intended on leaving her, restocked his pack and headed back to Bishop for the night. He had called his Captain and been cleared to take the next few days off from work, then called and had one of his Sergeant book him a cabin in the general area then send the link for directions . It turned out to be a two room hunting cabin close to Bishop that had full cell coverage and high speed internet, via satellite. It was better than nothing and he could get the drop on Rose if her next move was what he predicted it would be. He couldn't help but wonder if Rose had employed the same technique as he had in mounting cameras, he certainly hoped not, but would not be surprised if she had. He had placed a few of the cameras in low to the ground orientation as well as from above up in the trees, hoping that he would catch her movements.
The next morning, Hunter woke Steve up whining but wagging his tail. Steve's laptop was still open next to him on the bed, and the live feed from his cameras was running on the monitor. Hunter was looking directly at Rose, who was looking up into the trees. He was praying she wouldn't see his cameras.
Luck seemed to be with him as she slowly scanned her surroundings. She waited over half an hour, and was still for long enough that the cameras stopped feeding images for over ten minutes. Steve was starting to lose his cool when two of his cameras picked up motion and images popped up again. Rose was on the move. She circumvented the meadow and made her way along the rocks until the thick grouping of trees where her storage was located. He had aimed three cameras toward that location and several on various paths to or from the trees and meadow. He wanted at least some idea of which direction to search next. She had her pack with her and she made her way toward her stage camp. Once there, she packed up her pack, repositioned her supplies, and a few minutes later headed out to the north west.
Steve broke out his map. He located the exact spot of the meadow thanks to his GPS. Using his index fingers to track his movement across the map he located the closest trail system in the direction she had headed. Then Steve found another access point to that trail system via dirt road to the north of where Rose had parked her Jeep. His plan was to search for her from a direction that she least expected.
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