My eyebrows furrow as I realize he literally just vanished from before me.

"Huh?" I ask lamely.

He must have climbed up a tree.

He's trying to escape me! That's so rude!

Glancing up the nearest climbable tree, my thoughts of him desperately jumping through the trees in an attempt to get away from this clearly vicious teenage girl come to a halt. I see the man standing on a sturdy branch right above me.

My brain's eyebrows furrow, making me utterly confused.

"You're slow," he comments, sounding disinterested.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don't know. Why are you up there?"

He answers simply, "We travel up here for a little while."

I blink.

"What."

"Unless you would rather give up and turn around."

"You're joking."

"Am I?" He asks, cocking his head to the side slightly in a kind of adorable way while raising an eyebrow.

He's totally not kidding. Wow.

I sigh, "How am I supposed to travel by tree with my bag and ax and snow pants?"

"Put the ax in the bag. You'll be fine just wearing the snow pants."

So, I have to struggle to put the snow pants on, now?

I glance down at my overly stuffed duffle bag that literally looks like it's about to burst. "Okay, but the ax? I don't think that it'll even fit in the bag."

"Try."

"No," I stay, stubbornly. "I know it won't fit."

It has how many things in there? I've lost count. It's an incredible bag for staying true after all that I've put it through. Honestly, I'm surprised the zipper hasn't broken yet.

"Then hand me your bag."

I grab my bag and lift it up to him, dying under the weight. However, since he deems me weak, I try my best to not let any sign of struggle reach my face.

"And the ax?" I manage to get out.

He doesn't answer me as he crouches down, left hand holding onto a branch near him, while the right hand grips my heavy bag and pulls it up to his level easily.

His hands look cold. Why isn't he wearing gloves of any sort? Dumb.

Then, he swings the strap around his right shoulder and takes a large step over onto the next tree's sturdy branch.

Looking around, I see this small stretch of the woods seems to be the only spot where he'd be able to actually do this. He probably does it to discourage others from following his tracks and finding his home.

Either way, he's pretty quick about it. Agile, nimble. The exact opposite of me. Even with the heavy bag on his shoulder!

A paragon for American Ninja Warriors.

I struggle to first put the snow pants on. It takes a bit, but once I do, I take a few steps toward the tree I'm supposed to climb. "Um...yeah, I can't do that."

He stops on a nearby tree, "Try."

"Do or do not. There is no try."

I think I hear him scoff, but when I look back up at him from the tree in front of me, all I see is a bored stare.

"Anyway, I say that because of how many times I've tripped and fallen in my lifetime. I'm incredibly clumsy. So, to be honest, I'm probably going to fall out of a tree if I try to climb up one."

"Try."

"I'm getting sick of that word."

I look back at the tall tree, having no idea how I'm supposed to get up there with this ax in my hands.

"Uh, Vaughn? The ax?"

"Figure out a way."

Rolling my eyes, I put the ax head downwards in my left back pocket of my snow pants, as it's not a very big ax. More like a hatchet.

That should work. Hopefully...

Then, I reach up and grab the two sturdiest limbs that are the easiest to get a grip on. I'm so thankful for my height at the moment. Had I been a few inches shorter, I wouldn't be able to reach the branches. However, I very much hate my weight and lack of upper body strength.

I see Villanous Vaughn out of the corner of my eye, watching me pathetically try to pull myself up. I imagine him smiling nefariously when he sees how futile my efforts are, only making me feel more pathetic and embarrassed.

So, I put my arms down and stop trying for the time being. I refocus. Ignore Vaughn; he doesn't exist at the moment.

I focus solely on getting up the tree.

Taking a deep breath, I grab the limbs again, awkwardly putting my right leg out and placing my foot on the tree trunk. Then, I somehow push myself upward, and after a second, I'm able to put my right foot on a branch.

I look at Vaughn, who continues to stare at me blankly. "I did it!"

At first, I expect him to say something snarky like, 'Wow, you climbed a tree,' or, 'Congrats, you can now manage to do something that little kids do all the time.'

But then I realize that's something I would say, and that Vaughn doesn't talk more than necessary.

He turns his head away and begins moving through the trees again, remaining steady in his actions.

Before following him, I make sure that I still have the hatchet in my back pocket. Finding that I do, I start moving after him carefully, taking it one branch at a time. I'm careful to always hold on to two sturdy limbs at once, avoiding looking anywhere else than the branches around me.

Time passes as we ourselves pass through the forest from above, and he always stays a few trees ahead of me. Still in earshot, barely in sight. After a while, I've gotten a bit smoother at tree-travel. I'm nowhere near being as agile as him, but I'm better than I was before. Vaughn was right, I was fine wearing the snow pants through the trees. They didn't slow me down as much as I thought they would.

I suddenly ask in vain: "So, why do we have to travel by tree?"

Silence.

Am I even surprised though?

Nope.

I wait a few seconds. Then, sarcastically faking interest, I say: "Oh, wow, that's such an interesting reason."

The absence of sound on his part goes on.

"Thank you for that elaborate explanation," I continue.

Yes, I'm not going to push him to open up. But, I'd like to believe I'm entitled to a bit of sarcasm.

If that makes me annoying, then great, I'm absolutely irritating.

"Tracks. Because of the snow. You don't want our tracks to be tracked."

This time I don't wait for him to sarcastically call me Sherlock and tell me how much of a genius I am. I simply remain waiting for the sound...of silence.

At this point, I've become inured to it.

I can't look at him, because otherwise, I'm confident that I'll fall out of the tree, the whole debacle I am.

But, I imagine his shoulder has to be getting tired of burdening my heavy bag.

Oh well. He's the one who insisted on tree travel.

I know that I won't receive an answer, but I ask randomly: "What's up with the birds, anyway?"

Silence. Not surprisi-

"I'll only answer questions that could help you find out what happened to your uncle."

"Oh my God, you replied."

No reply.

For the next couple of minutes, I think about what he said, trying to formulate an idea that could possibly allow me to connect the birds to my uncle.

Then, I have one.

"Did you say goodbye to my uncle the last time you saw him?"

"Yes."

"When did he leave? During the day?"

"Yes."

"Okay, but don't the birds swarm everyone during the day?"

"Not me."

"Wouldn't they swarm my uncle?"

"I trained them to not swarm him."

"Dang it. Of course you did. Wait did you really?"

You really thought you had something there, is what I'd be saying right now if I were him. However, since he's him, he doesn't say anything else.

How does the bird thing work, though? How does Vaughn train ravens? Their swarming, is it like a siren? Vaughn observes them making a raven-black bird cloud, and it's kind of like his own little alarm system?

And they all just listen to this one man?

That's kind of fascinating, to be honest.

But, then again, that's just my theory. His reality is probably much, much lamer than my imagination.

"How much farther?" I ask, then quickly add: "That question is uncle-related because the sooner I can get out of the trees, the sooner I can start thinking about what happened to him."

"About one klick."

"Huh? Klick? What?"

I know what a klick is...kind of. I know it relates to distance, and it's used in the military, but I don't know how long it is.

"Less than a mile."

"But we're going to go down to the ground soon, right? We've been doing this for like ten minutes."

No reply.

Well, I guess it could be worse. He could have just left me wondering about how long a klick was and give my brain something to mull over. Instead, now I know I could have a little less than a mile to go, and I'm stuck thinking about how exhausted I feel.

At least tree travel is pretty exciting, though. I always have to stay alert to my surroundings. Otherwise, I'll be doing a clumsy head dive into the snow. The scenery pretty much stays the same: bare trees and branches, snow-covered ground, blue sky, little wildlife.

I expected to see more wildlife, in all honesty. Maybe not any wolves on the first day, but definitely some deer or something.

I stay silent as we just keep moving forward, and I once again appreciate how lovely silence can be.

The absence of sound is a beautiful thing when you're tired of conversation. And, by conversation, I mean asking someone a multitude of questions and only getting an answer 1% of the time.

That really just butters my roll.

I'm lost in thought when my left foot almost misses the next branch completely, making my heart stop and my stomach sink.

I thankfully manage to get it situated firmly on the branch before I continue on.

I don't know how long it is until I come to a stop near him. He's stopped moving forward, opting to start climbing down.

"This is so weird."

Since he doesn't say anything, I find it totally okay to say whatever I want, because I don't know his personality.

"What? Back to the ground again? Do we have to dig a hole and travel by tunnel now?"

He hits the ground with a thud, and I begin my descent after him. I maneuver around and underneath branches until I'm able to drop the remaining four feet to the ground.

"How far until we get to the place where you stay?" I question as we begin to walk through the forest again.

"The cave is a ten-minute walk from here," he answers.

"You live in a cave?" I ask, surprised. I would have thought he built a little log cabin for himself or something.

"No, but the cave is where you'll stay."

I stop. "Oh, come on. You're serious?"

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

"You're right, you sound insane. What about hibernating bears?"

Actually, I'm not all too worried. In one of the survival books I read, it said a cave can make for one of the best natural shelters. In fact, in the 18th century, longhunters exploring the Appalachian Mountains stayed for entire winters in camps under rock overhangs.

So, I should be fine.

But, he doesn't need to know I'm actually okay with this.

"There aren't any in this one."

"Hopefully," I mutter.

Silence.

I decide to ask some questions about my uncle. Yes, because I like Vaughn's voice, but of course because I'm also interested in what happened to John, too.

"How did you meet my uncle?"

"He showed up at my camp."

"How?" I say.

I kind of am very annoying to be around, aren't I? I just am an unlikeable person by nature; love that for me!

"I was 18 when I met him. He had just gotten to Chickaloon and decided he wanted to go on one of those sled dog tours for his photography assignment. His guide only took him as far as the edge of the woods, because he knew I was staying out here. Your uncle argued that he was going to go into the woods to discover the...hermit his guide talked about, and his guide left him. John walked until he somehow came across my camp."

I think that was the most he's ever talked! I was totally enthralled by his voice that I almost didn't fully pay attention to what was being said.

Thankfully, I catch the main point of interest to me. Vaughn was 18 when he met John.

In John's letters, he tells me when he has made the so-called new friend, i.e., Vaughn. His letters, which are dated.

I glance up from looking down at my feet while I walk. I totally forgot Vaughn was still carrying my bag!

I race up beside him, holding out my hand. He glances to the side and glares at it, to where I want to take it away.

But I don't. "I'll take my bag back now," I say politely. "Thanks for carrying it, though."

I kind of feel pathetic for struggling to move through the trees with a hatchet in my back pocket while Vaughn was over here just swiftly moving with a heavy bag and a gun on him. But then again, he's had more practice at tree-travel than I have.

Without a word, he moves my duffle bag from my shoulder and hands it to me. I take it, instantly regretting it. I totally forgot how heavy it was.

Once again, I try not to let that show and stop walking as I give him time to continue forward. After all, he wants space between us. Fine by me.

Also, it gives me time to quickly rummage through my bag for John's letters. Once I find the one I want, I take it out and read the date. Saturday, August 18th, 2012.

I was 10. John met Vaughn when he was 18. Vaughn is 8 years older than me, so he's 26 right now.

I glance up quickly, wondering if I can still see him.

I can, he's still walking in front of me.

Before I can say anything, however, he says: "Yes, I'm 26."

How'd he...?

Treating his statement with indifference, I put the letter away, zip up my bag again, and then swing it onto my right shoulder. Then, looking at the back of Vaughn's head, I ask: "Who was John's sled dog guide-musher-guy?"

"Matthias." His soft, deep voice almost scoffs the name out.

I take it he doesn't really like Matthias.

Did my uncle, though?

"What did John think of Matthias?"

"He didn't dislike anyone."

That does sound like my uncle, from what I remember. He always was smiling and enjoyed everyone's company. I don't know how he could, as some people are just unlikeable human beings.

Like me, for example. Is that why he only wrote me a letter once a year? It's plausible, actually.

But, that's just how he was.

Finally, Vaughn comes to a stop in front of a very dark and cold-looking cave.

Before I can make a sarcastic statement along the lines of "Oh, wow! Home sweet home," he says: "My cabin is barely visible through the treeline; it's not far. If your life is in danger, let me know."

And, with that, he starts to walk away.