“I know at the end of the trip we are planning on staying in Munich for a few days after the students leave, but what if we came back here?”
“I'm not helping you snag a broody Bavarian Christmas tree farmer that enjoys dressing up in horns,” Gabe snorts. “But I’ll buy you a one-way bus ticket.”
“You can't deny he's dreamy.”
“It's a bad mix of a sappy Christmas movie and your shadow daddy fetish.”
“I'm totally down for being a more festive person if I woke up with him for Christmas. And don't deny your love for chintzy romance, Mr. I’m-dating-an-indie-bookstore-owner.”
Gabe rolls his eyes at me. We are at the back of the group, catching any stragglers, as we hike up to the alpine lake. I have been talking about the morning encounter with Remme the whole time. Oliver, thankfully, was leading the hike, stopping every so often to read a German poem or paragraph from a book related to the beautiful alpine environment. Often glancing at me, as if the words were for me not the group. I will give him credit for being persistent despite the amount of times I directly told him ‘no’.
“If you are really getting desperate, I'm sure Oliver would make himself available. Even dressing up - if that’s how you like it.” I groan.
I think about Gabe and our friendship. I liked him right from the start. He is always willing to be honest and we support each other’s wild plans. He sees right through the tough girl persona I often put up and I see through his always-put-together exterior. Deep down inside he really is an ass.
It has been a while since we'd actually been able to spend time together outside of work. His current relationship turned serious fast. I wonder if he will even be leading this trip next year.
The path takes us into a pine forest near the far end of the lake. It narrows a bit from a ravine on the side opposite of the lake. Here, magic sits in the air. Snow is lightly covering branches and the ground next to the path. Sun filters in between the boughs and dances in the air. I dream about what a Bavarian Christmas tree farm would look like as we walk along a real life winter wonderland forest.
The forest is hushed in silence, aside from the occasional songbird. A finch or a tit? My grandmother would have known. The sun reflects off the lake, a surface that is completely still. We come out of the forest and come to a small waterfall.
Oliver is reciting a poem - a very sensual poem written about lakes, of course - without dropping his eyes from me. The teens take the time to eat a snack but are very much aware of the looks Oliver is giving to me. I am flushing from embarrassment which everyone, including Oliver, is misinterpreting as desire.
I try to avoid his gaze by suddenly becoming very busy looking for something in my backpack. What did I even pack in here? I was in such a rush packing my bags this morning I hardly paid attention. An apple. All the yarn I bought along with the knitting needles I found unintentionally packed in my suitcase. A pocket knife I use more for cutting yarn than anything else. I shove that in my pants pocket to keep myself looking busy. I sort through the rest of the knicknacks in here as Gabe laughs at me, knowing my intentions.
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“Just can’t seem to find what you need? Looking for a shovel to dig yourself a hole to hide in?”
I just grumble at him. I finally find what I need once Oliver is heading back down the trail. One of the parents tells him to pick up the pace as we are due back on the bus soon. Thankfully this means no more poems.
The sun is dropping quickly in late afternoon. I am fuming in the rear with Gabe, he is keeping me back so the students can’t hear me bitch.
The group slows where the trail narrows in the forest but one of the girls in front of us does not seem to notice. She is too busy taking pictures and bumps into the boy in front of her. She tries to catch herself by stepping off the trail but misplaces her foot and slides down the sharp drop off. Thankfully she grabs the pines growing out of the side of the cliff and is only a few feet below us but it causes a commotion and she screams in fear.
Gabe and I climb down to get her untangled from the tree. It appears she twisted her ankle in her fall so Gabe slowly climbs back up with her as I try to collect her belongings. Her backpack is halfway down the ravine but easy enough for me to get. I wave Gabe ahead as I know it will take him some time to walk her down to the bus.
Her jacket, phone, water bottle and backpack are scattered over the cliff face. I scale down easily thanks to a sudden interest in rock climbing I developed a few years ago. A sudden interest spurred by a love interest.
In the ravine, the afternoon light has already left. I am searching for her items in the increasing darkness. I collect her backpack and put all her loose items in as I feel a chill come across the ravine. Probably from the encroaching darkness I think to myself but the hairs stand up on my neck as if I sense something more.
As I start the ascent, I look up towards the ridge where the trail should be. All the students must have stopped gawking and headed down the trail as I don’t see anyone. I only make it a step further when a stone I was using for leverage gives out. I topple down further into the ravine, thankfully able to stop myself by grabbing on a tree. It is getting dark and cold fast. The snow is also deeper down here which means less traction. Nothing I have not scaled before so I find a foothold and push my weight up.
It is eerily silent now. Something moves behind me and I whip my head around. Nothing. No paw prints or disturbed snow. Something darts between the trees in the shadows. I slowly put down the student’s backpack and take out my pocket knife. I fumble open the blade so thankful but terrified that this likely is worthless if there is a wolf down here. Or an alp the back of my mind says.
The forest is dark and dead silent. I hear Gabe calling my name from far off. I back up the cliff a little. I find no more obvious foot holds and glance back at my feet for a few seconds. I can’t see anything in the darkness. Curses. I dig with my foot for something and this distraction is enough for whatever is pursuing me as I hear bodies rush towards me and pull me down into their grasp.
I try to scream but already there is a hand over my mouth. Not beast, human. But not exactly human. I squirm but their hold on me gets harder so I start stabbing anything, everything with my pocket knife. There is blood all over my hands and dripping into the snow but they don’t stop. One of them wrestles the knife out of my hand. I can’t tell how many there are. All I can see is white hair. Dark clothes. As we get deeper into the ravine, the world goes black.