Chapter 3: The Return to the Tent
The tent zipper whined like a trapped insect. Tanya held her breath, sliding inside, the nylon rustling as she crawled over Rohan’s sleeping form. The scent of the forest—cold pine and damp earth—clung to her, a betraying perfume.“Tanya?” His voice was thick with sleep. “Where’d you go?”
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird.“Couldn’t sleep. Just needed some air.” The lie felt thin and brittle in the dark.
He grunted, a sound of pure, unquestioning comfort. “You’re freezing.” His arm, heavy and warm, looped around her waist and pulled her back against the curve of his body. His skin was familiar, the smell of his deodorant a mundane anchor. She let herself be held, her body rigid as a plank.His lips brushed the nape of her neck, a sleepy, habitual kiss. She didn’t move.Didn’t soften. The memory was too immediate—the heat of another fire, the pressure of a different knee, a smile that wasn’t safe.Her skin felt too tight.
Rohan sighed, a faint, frustrated sound into her hair. After a moment, his arm loosened, and he rolled onto his other side.The space between them cooled instantly.
She stared up at the dark canvas, listening to the wind nagging at the guy-lines. The whiskey was gone from her throat, but Divakar’s words were still there, carving a hollow in her chest.A little splinter under your skin forever. She brought her hand to her face, inhaling.She could still smell the woodsmoke on her fingers.Or was it just memory?
Sleep never came.Morning was a blunt, grey light and the smell of instant coffee. Rohan was already outside, his voice cheerful as he fumbled with the portable stove.Normal. The whole world insisted on being normal.Tanya emerged, squinting. The mountain air was crisp, scrubbing away the thick residue of the night.It almost worked.
“There she is!” Geet called from across the small clearing. She was perched on a cooler, wrapped in a puffy jacket, her eyes sharp and knowing.“We heard you wandering around last night. Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Tanya said, too quickly.She busied herself rolling up her sleeping bag. “Just restless.”
“Uh-huh.” Geet’s smile was a razor. “It’s spooky out there at night, isn’t it?All those noises. Could be anything.” She sipped her coffee, watching Tanya’s hands fumble with the straps.
Rohan handed Tanya a steaming mug.“Did you see anything? A bear or something?”
“No,” Tanya murmured into the steam. “No bear.”
Divakar’s tent was silent, the flap closed.A part of her, a stupid, humming part, was disappointed.
They ate granola bars in the cool quiet. The other couple, Avi and Shruti, were discussing the day’s hike—a ridge walk with panoramic views. Rohan chimed in with trail facts from the guidebook.The conversation was a warm blanket.Tanya tried to pull it around herself.
The sound of a zipper cut through the chatter.Divakar emerged, looking effortlessly composed. He wore a simple black thermal and climbing pants, his hair perfectly tousled by sleep, not wilderness. His eyes scanned the group, landing on Tanya. It was just a glance, a fraction of a second, but it was a collision.A secret handshake in broad daylight.
“Morning, campers,” he said, his voice smooth.“Sleep well?”
Geet laughed, a little too loud. “Like a baby. A baby that hears strange footsteps all night.”
Divakar ignored her, his attention on filling his own water bladder.“The ridge hike’s good,” he said casually. “But the real view’s from the old forestry watchtower.Off-trail. Maybe a mile scramble past the marked endpoint.”
Rohan looked up, intrigued.“Is it safe? The map doesn’t show anything.”
“Maps don’t show half the good stuff,” Divakar said, shrugging.“It’s stable. Just requires a little… commitment.”
“I’m up for it,” Geet declared, stretching. “I didn’t come all this way to stick to a dotted line.”
A consensus, hesitant but formed, drifted through the group. An adventure.Tanya felt the decision lock into place like a gear turning in her stomach. It was his suggestion.Of course it was.The hike began predictably. The path was steep, winding through fragrant cedar stands.Rohan led, setting a steady pace. Shruti and Avi followed, lost in their own rhythm.Geet flitted between groups, a restless butterfly.
Tanya found herself at the back, her breath shortening not just from the incline. The sound of careful footsteps behind her was deliberate.She didn’t need to look.
“Regret your late-night stroll?” Divakar’s voice was close, for her alone.“No.” The word came out defiant.
“Good.” He was quiet for a few steps, the only sound their boots on the rocky path. “Your boyfriend up there.He’s a good leader.Follows the trail markers. Looks back to make sure you’re keeping up.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is,” he said, his tone conversational, “some people are meant to follow trails. Others are meant to make them.” He drew alongside her, not touching, but the space between them seemed to vibrate.“That tower we’re going to?It’s where they used to watch for fires. A place to see everything, but only when something’s already burning.”
He moved ahead then, joining Geet with an easy joke that made her laugh. Tanya was left with the burn in her lungs and a colder, deeper fire in her gut.
The promised scramble was more than a mile, and it was brutal. Loose shale gave way underfoot; thorny brush clawed at their jackets. Rohan’s confident lead slowed, his face etched with concern as he helped Shruti over a particularly nasty drop. “This is sketchy,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone.Divakar moved like a shadow over the terrain, sure-footed and silent. He didn’t offer help. He just watched, a faint, unreadable smile on his face as the group grumbled and struggled.
Finally, the trees thinned, and the tower emerged, a skeletal sentinel of rusted iron and rotten wood silhouetted against the vast, cloud-chased sky. It was taller, more derelict, and far more dangerous than any of them had imagined. A wooden ladder, missing several rungs, led up to a platform that sagged in the middle.
“Whoa,” Avi breathed. “That’s not happening.”
“Come on!” Geet yelled, already grabbing the flaking metal frame. “The view must be insane!”
Rohan shook his head.“Geet, no.That ladder is toast. The whole thing could collapse.”
“Live a little, Rohan!” she shot back, already climbing.
A sick thrill pulsed through Tanya. It was stupid, reckless, the exact kind of thing Rohan would rationally, safely oppose. She watched Geet’s determined ascent, watched Divakar lean casually against a solid beam at the base, his eyes on her.A challenge.A dare.
Without a word, Tanya walked to the ladder.Rohan’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. “Tanya, don’t. This is crazy.”
She looked at his hand, his dear, familiar face tight with worry.She thought of his sleepy, rebuffed kiss. She thought of the suffocating script.She pulled her wrist free.
“I just want to see,” she said, and her voice was almost calm.The metal was cold and gritty. The missing rungs forced her to stretch, her muscles screaming. Below, Rohan’s protests grew faint, swallowed by the wind that whipped around the tower.Geet was already on the platform, whooping. The world narrowed to the next handhold, the next pull of her own weight.She hauled herself onto the platform. The wood groaned ominously under her feet. The panorama was dizzying—endless peaks fading into grey nothingness, a sea of green below.It was terrifying and magnificent. Geet was at the far edge, taking a selfie, the abyss behind her.
Divakar appeared at the top of the ladder moments later, moving with an eerie grace.He didn’t join Geet. He stood close to Tanya, where the platform was anchored to the main column.The wind tore at them.
“See?” he shouted over the gale. “Different perspective.”
She was shaking, from adrenaline or cold or him. “It’s going to collapse.”
“Probably.” He was so close she could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. “That’s what makes it real.”
Down below, Rohan was cupping his hands around his mouth, his words torn away. He looked small.Avi and Shruti were just colored dots.
Geet turned from the edge, her face alive with triumph.“Tanya! Get a picture of me!” She backed up, toward the fragile railing, striking a pose.
As Tanya fumbled for her phone, the wood beneath Geet’s foot gave a sharp, splintering crack. A section of the railing, rotten to its core, simply disintegrated. Geet’s arms windmilled, a cartoonish look of shock wiping the glee from her face. A scream, thin and sharp, escaped her lips as she stumbled backward into empty space.
Tanya’s own scream died in her throat.Time bent, stretched, snapped.Divakar moved. Not with a hero’s leap, but with a brutal, efficient lunge. He didn’t try to grab Geet. He threw his body weight against the main support column she was falling past, and his arm shot out, not for her hand, but for the strap of her backpack. His fingers hooked, clenched.The fabric strained with a sickening rip.Geet’s fall jerked to a stop. She dangled, one strap of her bright pink backpack holding her over a hundred-foot drop, her screams now raw, animal panic.The entire tower swayed with the sudden shift in weight.
Divakar was braced, his face a mask of sheer, physical effort, veins standing out on his neck. He didn’t look at Geet. He looked at Tanya, his eyes burning into hers.His voice was a guttural command, stripped of all mockery, all charm.
“Now,” he grunted, the single word fighting its way through clenched teeth. “Pull.”
The world came crashing back.The wind, the screams from below, the creaking groan of the tower. And the raw, undeniable truth in his eyes.This was no longer a game. It was the fire he’d promised, and they were all already burning.