My body aches. Everything’s sore from yesterday’s adventure marathon. It's still dark when we’re dragged out of bed for breakfast, and I’m barely done swallowing when we hit the road — if you can call that twisted trail a road.

  The GPS spends more time whining about lost signals than actually working, so we blindly follow shouted directions coming through the radio — down roads that barely even look like roads — dragging us deeper into a forest entirely disconnected from civilization.

  And the instructions? Completely against common sense. When the road turns into a vertical wall, it says to slow down to keep traction. When it dips into a ridiculous valley, it advises against braking too much to avoid overheating the discs. When it literally becomes a rushing river, it calmly tells me to cross it at a slow, steady pace, no need to rush, just trust the process.

  But it’s not just the shifting landscape we’re dealing with — there are herds of cows standing right in the middle of the road, kangaroos, emus, fallen trees. Getting out to check the road, inspecting the vehicle, using shovels, chainsaws, and pulleys — all become weirdly normal.

  The alarm in my head won’t shut off: we’re totally lost. These trails don’t even look like trails. They’re not real. No one would ever use a path like this — too many animals, too many obstacles. We have to be lost.

  Yet somehow, we reach the entrance to Abercrombie Park.

  “Fifteen minutes until the tour,” Sam says, dropping his backpack and sitting down, with Furious at his feet and Felina tucked into his pocket.

  “After everything we’ve done already, we still got here early,” Ella says, collapsing next to him as Zoe climbs into her lap.

  “Of course. It’d be rude to be late,” Sam replies, offended at the very suggestion that he, the walking embodiment of punctual chivalry, would ever do such a thing.

  Honestly, after seeing him get jammed in a tunnel and parade around with a bright ‘X’ on his ass, it’s hard to treat His Grace with a straight face.

  “Naturally, Sir Silver-X-Ass.” I grin. He kicks my foot. Zoe cackles and jumps on him, making him laugh too.

  With how calm things are now, you’d never guess we’ve driven through every kind of terrain, hiked trails, seen waterfalls, exotic animals, abandoned mines, gone through caves, and crossed suspension bridges — and it’s not even 9 a.m. Now we’re at our last stop before moving on: the cave once used by outlaws.

  As the hours pass, I notice a slow increase in the number of people. Now that we’re sitting, the looks linger longer. People start feeling bold. Phones come out. Discreet photos. The murmurs grow louder by the minute.

  I feel just like the exotic animals we saw earlier — people stop, stare, whisper, point us out, take pictures, maybe offer a snack or a pet on the head before moving on.

  When the guide arrives with a group of tourists, they quickly realize they’ll be doing the tour with me. Some take it as an opportunity. Cue the photo requests, the autograph questions, the flustered compliments. I smile through it. It’s part of the job — and honestly, some of them are sweet.

  But soon enough, things settle down. Apart from the usual glances and a few comments throughout the visit, no one crosses the line. No awkward flirting, no creepy touches, no one screaming for me to take off my shirt. That’s already a win.

  When it’s over, the crowd thins. Zoe asks where Sam is — and that’s when I realize I haven’t seen him in a while.

  Wally, using his height, spots a man in the distance — cap on, binoculars up, clearly lost in the scenery. Different clothes, same build, same boots. Sam, in disguise?

  He moves, and Furious follows him like a shadow. Identity confirmed. I grab Zoe’s arm to stop her from running toward him.

  Before, I wouldn’t have interfered. I’d just assume he didn’t like being around people — or me. That might still be true. But now, all I can think is that Sam must have a damn good reason to be this careful about not being recognized.

  Ella catches my hesitation, then whispers to Zoe, “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

  The guide walks up to us. “Mr. Jones, planning to visit another attraction today? If you’d like, can I take you to the waterfall trail?”

  “We did that one earlier, and the caves too,” I say, offering a friendly smile. “We’re thinking about grabbing lunch now. Any recommendations?”

  “There’s a picnic area, a good restaurant in town, or a quiet spot inside the park.”

  “That last one sounds nice. Why don’t you show us where it is — and join us for lunch?”

  “I'd be honored.”

  “Great. Let’s just wait for the girls to get back.”

  What about Sam?

  Well… he’ll follow. Or he won’t.

  “Bathroom for me too,” Wally says, walking off.

  Alone with the guide, visibly doing nothing but waiting, a group of fans surrounds me. Compliments, questions, selfies — the usual chaos.

  A few minutes later, I’m still surrounded — gladly answering questions, getting caught up in conversation. It’s not always bad, this kind of interaction. It’s good to be recognized and to have interesting talks. These moments are part of the deal — the good and the awkward.

  In the background, I spot Wally, Ella, and Zoe, hands raised to get my attention. I make my way to them, saying goodbye to the fans.

  “Shall we?” I ask.

  Ella slides her arm through mine. “We talked to him,” she murmurs. “He’s following.”

  “I’m taking you to a quiet spot,” the guide says, glancing behind at the fan-club-in-pursuit. “Though I doubt it’ll stay quiet.”

  “That’s fine,” I shrug. I doubt they’ll be a problem. They’ll probably just stare.

  After a short walk, we reach a picture-perfect clearing — one picnic table, a lazy river, and a hill with a swing hanging from a tree. The kind of place you’d see in a commercial for bottled water.

  We settle in, just as the group of teens who followed us earlier trickle in and linger nearby, surprisingly camera-shy for once. It’s almost peaceful — until another group arrives: sun hats, hiking poles, and rapid-fire photos of everything from tree bark to river stones. They look East Asian. One of them, a man holding a little flag, approaches with a polite smile already in place.

  “Could you tell me what tourist attraction this is?” he asks the guide.

  “We’re just stopping here for lunch,” the guide replies.

  “I thought this was an exclusive tour.” The man bows politely to me and says. “Very well,” and walks back, apparently satisfied. They debate among themselves and then sit too — casually joining us.

  “Everyone followed us — except the one who was supposed to,” Ella mutters, scanning the crowd.

  “But Sam’s over there,” Zoe points, eyes lighting up.

  Sure enough, lounging beneath the tree, back against the trunk, lazily fishing — the dog by his side, the cat curled in his lap, and his legs swinging slightly like the whole scene was perfectly staged.

  When did he even get there?

  Even doing something so… ordinary, there’s something about the way he does it. I get why Zoe’s so enchanted — it’s like he’s one of those movie spies who vanish into a crowd and reappear effortlessly cool. And all the mystery surrounding his past just adds to the vibe.

  Before I grab Zoe again, she’s already sprinting up the hill. But she’s not alone — a few kids from the tourist group chase after her, aiming for the swing.

  Behind them, an elderly couple follows with a small bag, the woman saying something to what I assume are the kids’ parents, who go back to chatting with the rest of their group.

  “Do you think he has a license?” the guide asks, frowning with concern.

  “He probably laminated it,” I say. “He’s that kind of guy.”

  The guide nods, reassured. We start setting up the picnic.

  From the tourist group, only the man with the little flag and the woman beside him keeps glancing my way. Eventually, she leans in, smiling, and whispers something to her daughter while subtly pointing at me.

  “He played that clumsy architect, remember? The one who kept losing his phone?”

  The man catches my amused smile at his wife’s comment and chuckles. “And always ran in the rain. You were wetter than the love interest half the time.”

  They speak with warmth like they’re remembering an old favorite rather than confronting a celebrity.

  Somehow, without planning, the three groups — teens, tourists, and ours — begin to blend together. Different languages, food, and laughter mingle like old friends. It’s chaotic, but kind of beautiful.

  And it all started because someone recognized me from a movie.

  Moments like this, experiences like this, remind me why dealing with fame is worth it.

  It’s nice here. Still… being the center of attention gets old fast.

  “Zoe hasn’t eaten a thing,” Ella says, prepping a plate — one for her, one for Sam.

  “I’ll go with you.” I offer, grabbing the plates.

  We find them by the swing. Zoe’s holding her rod. Sam, of course, has moved on to binoculars.

  An elderly man inspects Sam’s fishing gear. Beside him, a woman cleans a scrape on a child’s knee. I smile. They nod, then go back to what they were doing. I’m invisible. For once, it feels kind of nice.

  “Good afternoon. Did you mind if I sit here?” I ask, motioning toward the old couple.

  “My grandparents don’t speak English — just Mandarin,” the injured boy replies, then repeats my question in clearer, louder Mandarin.

  They nod and gesture for me to sit — facing them, with my back to Sam and Zoe.

  Ella hands her daughter a lunchbox. She sets her rod aside and starts eating. I open my container too, and to play it casual — so it doesn’t look like I know Sam — I offer some to the couple first.

  They politely decline. Sam grabs a sandwich, then lays the food between us, a gentle hint that it’s there if they want it.

  It’s a big contrast from the loud group nearby. Here, silence feels… peaceful.

  The woman offers me a cookie, slowly saying its name. I repeat it. She smiles. I take a bite — sweet and crisp. I return the favor with a sheet. We start trading words like snacks. The language isn’t a barrier, just a trail with overgrown weeds.

  The old man never smiles. He watches. Occasionally, leans in to whisper to his wife. She nods. The kids like me, though. That’s enough for now.

  “You call her your niece, but her mom’s your cousin, right?” the boy asks, eyeing Zoe.

  “Yeah, and I call him uncle,” Zoe jumps in.

  “But he’s not really your uncle. You’re second cousins.”

  “Wait, really?” Zoe blinks.

  “She’s like a niece to me,” I say. “I grew up with Ella like she was my sister. Our moms were super close.”

  “Got it.” the boy nods. “But I was technically right.” He grins.

  “You were.” I ruffle his hair — and the old man huffs. Loudly.

  Clearly, that wasn’t appreciated. I pull my hand back.

  “Hey… JJ, quick question — what was the name of that animal the guide said we might see? The one you said always looks like it’s smiling?” Sam asks, out of nowhere.

  “Wombat?” I say, confused. What is he doing? We’re supposed to be pretending we don’t know each other.

  Then again, there were others on the tour. Maybe he’s just another 'random' tourist who caught sight of me.

  “Whoa, really? Can you tell me more? Have you seen one?” the injured boy chimes in, eyes lighting up. He looks at the old man, so I do too.

  “Wombats are nocturnal. Probably not gonna spot one at this hour,” I explain. “But yeah, I’ve seen a few — a couple months back. They’re super cute. When they sit, they kinda look like they’re laughing. Big chubby cheeks. Totally squishable.”

  “My grandpa loves exotic animals,” the boy says with a proud grin.

  “You’d like to see a… wombat?” I repeat the word slowly, ensuring he understands.

  The old man turns his face away, completely uninterested.

  “JJ, don’t just be nice to the lady — that’s why he’s grumpy,” Sam says casually, fiddling with his hook. “She’s got a hat. He left his cap down by the van. Grab mine from the backpack, would you? Just let him know it’s clean — but, uh… a little shabby.”

  I dig around, pull out the cap, and glance at the old man. “I don’t know…” I murmur under my breath.

  He leans toward the woman beside him, muttering something while eyeing the boy, who’s happily chewing away.

  How am I supposed to explain this?

  I give him a smile. Stay calm, keep it friendly — the same approach I used with his wife.

  “To protect from the sun…”

  “Tell him,” Sam whispers behind me. “Clean. And shabby.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Clean,” I say with a small nod. He seems to understand.

  I smile wider. “Shabby.”

  He turns red. Then — surprisingly fast — he’s on his feet, shouting at me in Chinese.

  I freeze, drop the cap, and take a step back.

  “...Sorry?”

  He huffs, spins, and storms off. The old woman bows apologetically and hurries after him.

  What the hell just happened?

  “Sorry about my grandpa,” the boy says, barely holding back a laugh as he follows them.

  I turn to see Sam shaking with silent laughter, conveniently focused on his fishing to hide his face.

  “What did you do?”

  “Me? I’ve been sitting here. Minding my own business.” He twitches the rod and that crooked smirk appears.

  “Tell me. Now.” I narrow my eyes.

  “Apparently… he’s not your biggest fan.”

  “I was being polite!”

  He tilts his head, flashing the fakest smile imaginable, and hands his rod to Zoe.

  “Let’s break it down,” he says. “You smiled too much — that screams ‘fake’ to him. You patted his grandson’s head — very bad.

  And then you said…”

  He pauses, milking the drama.

  “‘Wombat!’ Over and over. Right in his face.”

  “That’s not offensive!”

  “To you. But to a half-deaf man who only speaks Mandarin?” He says the word slowly: “王八蛋.” He lets it hang.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Roughly? ‘Son of a bitch.’”

  “You knew that and didn’t say anything?”

  I’m ready to blow when he lifts a finger, all smug.

  “But the final straw was when you said ‘Shabby.’ Clearly. Slowly. Like you were teaching him a word.” He describes it just like he says now. “Right… idiot.”

  He nods in mock encouragement, and that crooked, smug grin spreads across his face.

  “I’m going to kill you.” I lock him in a headlock and drag him toward the edge of the river, threatening to toss him in.

  Ella’s laughing so hard she’s wheezing. “You speak Mandarin and kept quiet?!”

  “You are dead,” I yell as he claws at my arm.

  “Just like the boy who ‘doesn’t speak English,’” he shrugs, all innocence — then grins wickedly. “He even helped.”

  “Go fix the misunderstanding.”

  “My dad was the diplomat, not me. I don’t make peace — I watch the fire.” He cackles, digging his nails into my arm.

  “You son of a bitch,” I ignore the pain and tighten my grip, ready to throw him in.

  This bastard’s about to learn a lesson. Let’s see how long he lasts before he starts drinking river water.

  Right then, Zoe screams, and something cold and wet smacks us in the face.

  Stunned, I look up just in time to see her barreling down the slope, rod in hand, being chased by a fish violently flailing at the end of her line.

  By the time she reaches the bottom of the hill, Wally has already scooped her up, gently nudging the rod from her grip — but she refuses to let go. Safe now, she grins at us like she just won a medal.

  “I caught a fish,” she beams.

  Yeah… and nearly died doing it.

  “A beautiful trout. Great size. It’ll taste amazing,” Sam says, arriving just behind her. He nets the fish, casually removes the hook, and — without missing a beat — pulls a knife from his ankle and starts cleaning it right there.

  The horrified gasps behind us say it all.

  Zoe’d seen this before and never flinched, but now, seeing everyone else’s shock, her eyes go wide. “Are we eating it? What about Felina and Furious?” she whispers.

  “It’s the perfect size. We’ll grill it,” Sam replies, rinsing the fish, oblivious to the growing tension.

  The old man who was mad at me earlier steps up, clearly impressed. Sam chats with him fluently. They laugh. Of course, they laugh.

  Bastard. I’m going to kill him.

  “I don’t know if I want to eat it anymore…” Zoe murmurs, hiding behind her mom.

  “Not a fan of fish? I used to hate the smelly ones too — or is it the eyes? I’ll take the head off and slice it nice for you.” Sam says casually, still packing it up like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

  Finally noticing the crowd of disapproving teenagers, Sam adds, “Relax. I’ve got a license. The size is legal.” He raises his bloody hand like a badge of honor — which, naturally, makes it worse. “Are you all vegans or something?”

  “How could you kill an animal?” one girl snaps, her Save the Koalas shirt basically glowing with judgment.

  The family nearby starts packing faster, but they’re clearly dying to watch the drama unfold.

  “I didn’t kill it for fun. I’m going to eat it,” Sam replies, striking a noble pose like some misunderstood knight.

  “You didn’t have to kill it. There are alternatives.”

  Sam stays calm. “Let me guess — you love nature. Want to live in harmony with it. Real hippie vibes.”

  “We preserve nature. We don’t murder it,” she hisses.

  “That species isn’t endangered. Think of it as population control,” he shrugs. “And if you love nature, then you should know — that’s how nature works.”

  “We don’t need animal protein to live!”

  “We’re omnivores. It’s biology. And honestly, it tastes great.”

  “You monster!”

  “Would you call a bear a monster for eating fish?”

  “He’s an animal.”

  “And we’re not?”

  “Irrational… Irrational animals,” she spits.

  Sam leans in a little, his smile soft and voice like velvet. “You mean… like you?”

  She blinks, thrown off — was that an insult or... flirting? Her brain stalls, unsure which way to react.

  “Easy,” I step in, trying to cool things before someone combusts.

  Sam, completely unfazed, presses on. “You have your view, I have mine. Rational animals can respect that, right?” He arches a brow at her, daring her to admit she’s irrational.

  There’s a moment of silence.

  Phones come out. Courage blooms behind their screens.

  “Let’s not turn this into a war. It’s just lunch,” I mutter.

  But it’s too late — she’s locked in.

  “We’ll bury it then, so it can have a dignified death,” she declares.

  Sam gives her a calm, dangerous smile. “It lived freely, died as prey — as nature intended. Burying it would be a waste.”

  “So by that logic, eating a human corpse is fine too?” she raises an eyebrow, defiant.

  “I’m not a cannibal. That’s different.”

  “It’s a life. Same as ours.” She reaches for the fish.

  “It’s mine.” Sam lifts it like Simba. “Back off.”

  “I’ll cancel you. I have followers. You’re done.”

  Sam snorts. “Film all you want. I don’t even have social media. It’s just opinions, sweetheart — and the internet loves a brawl. Odds are, you’ll be the one getting roasted.”

  “Sam…” I murmur.

  Wasn’t he the one avoiding attention?

  Sam adjust the old cap. “Stay out of it. I don’t even know you,” he grumbles, shoving me for show. Then he leans in and whispers, “You’ll only make it worse if you back me up,” while pretending to lose his temper and pushing my chest.

  “Go on! Post it!” he dares.

  “There’s no signal, but you’re still screwed, you poor old nobody,” she blurts, flailing for insults.

  “Oh, poor me,” Sam gasps dramatically. “Just a humble fisherman, trying to survive. If I lose this trout, how will I live? Will no one think of the starving man?”

  Then, just to top it off, he looks up with tear-filled eyes, so convincing. The man deserves an Oscar.

  The girl falters — almost pities him. If only she knew he was loaded.

  “Don’t kill animals. We’re all living beings and we all deserve to live,” she says, all hopeful and righteous. “We’ll raise money for you,” she offers. “Help you go vegan. Grow plants. Reconnect with nature.”

  Sam drops the act. “So I’m supposed to change my life because you filmed me? Based on your whims? I’ve done nothing illegal. You haven’t either — yet — but posting my image without consent is.”

  He starts packing calmly.

  “And by the way… Do you think everyone will take your side? Your bubble might — sure — but the real world? Not so simple. You’ll be judged too. Let’s see how you handle that.”

  He turns to leave, stopping only to hand the old man a card before disappearing into the woods.

  Should I follow?

  He pretended not to know me… better to stay. We’ll meet in the parking lot.

  “That guy’s insane,” the girl mutters.

  “Good thing you didn’t push him. He could’ve killed you,” someone says, backing her up. “I got it on video. He’s going viral. Might even go to jail.”

  Why do they think that? He didn’t break any laws.

  Zoe runs over, tugging my arm.

  This crap totally ruined the good vibe we had going. Despite my little misunderstanding with the old man, it seemed like he understood I didn’t mean any harm. His grandson must’ve explained everything to him, and he’s probably used to it by now anyway — most of his family seems to speak English, after all.

  “Can you guys give me your phones?” she asks, holding out her hand.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Sam said so. Over the walkie.” She pulls out the radio. “It’s kind of cool.”

  “Why does he want them?”

  “He said: just because yes.”

  “Then no,” I say.

  “Okay. What about you guys?” she asks Ella, Wally, and the guide.

  Ella hands hers over. “Here.”

  Zoe turns to the guide. “Please? I promise it’ll be safe. My friend will buy a new one if anything happens.”

  The guide reluctantly gives in, glancing at me like I’m the friend who’ll pay.

  “I’ll be right back,” Zoe calls, racing into the woods. Wally follows close behind.

  “What do you think they’re going to do?” Ella wonders aloud. “Let’s finish packing. Sam still wants to hike and camp out. He said he wants to enjoy this last night away from the city.”

  “Where are you going to hike to? You’ve done almost everything here,” the guide asks.

  “Some trail on the way to Blue Mountain,” he said.

  “Got it. I also love camping with my family and friends. It’s such a peaceful and intimate moment, right? The best way to really get to know someone and enjoy their company without too many distractions.” The guide sits down with a gentle smile.

  Clearly, he’s not inviting himself along — he knows this is more of a… personal thing. Or maybe he’s just a little spooked by Sam. Then again, probably not. Only the teens seemed scared of him, and they were the only ones who dared to go up against him.

  When Zoe and Wally return, I notice the Asian family is already gone. We’ve finished packing up — nothing left but to head out ourselves.

  Just as we’re walking toward the trail, a shadow suddenly darts out of the forest behind the teenagers.

  Wearing only a much smaller backpack, Sam appears, making a few of them jump in fright.

  “Go fuck yourselves, you clueless brats!” he says, flipping them off before sprinting away.

  Who’s the brat running like that?

  “We need to do something about this psycho,” the buff guy growls, getting to his feet.

  “Babe…” says the girl in the koala shirt, staring at her phone. “My phone just stopped working.”

  “Mine too,” another chimes in, tapping theirs.

  “It was that freak,” the buff guy concludes. “I’m gonna kill him.” And off he goes, charging into the woods after Sam.

  Do I save Sam, or not? That’s the question. If that guy catches up to him, Sam’s screwed. Sure, he’s got a knife, but I doubt he’d actually use it — more of a threat, like he did with me. I managed to pin him pretty easily, and while I’ve got a few skills, it was obvious he doesn’t have any real combat training. If that guy catches him, he’s getting wrecked.

  “Get him! Let’s box him in!” the rest of them start organizing themselves.

  Yeah. Sam is screwed.

  “Wally…” I start, worried.

  “I’m going with you,” he cuts in, already looking in the direction the teens are heading.

  “Ready?” Sam suddenly appears behind us.

  “Ah!” Zoe starts to scream, but he quickly covers her mouth.

  “Here’s your phone,” he says, pulling it from a metal case and handing it to the guide. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, already leading us quickly down the trail.

  Noted: If you ever have to fight Sam, do it one-on-one, in an open field. Never in the woods. And definitely not guerrilla-style.

  “What did you do?” I ask once we’re nearing the cars, with no sign of the teens behind us.

  “I fried their phones. I already told you — I don’t want my face going viral.”

  “But the Asian family filmed you too.”

  “Yeah, but they had a sense of reality. I could reason with them — offer something small and mention legal risks. No big deal.

  The others? I’ve dealt with all kinds — vegans, vegetarians, whatever — usually we debate, no need to go that far. I actually enjoy hearing other opinions.

  But these ones didn’t want a discussion, they wanted to preach. They wouldn’t get the consequences until it was too late.

  I’m not losing my peace over that. Honestly, a phone detox might be the best thing that happened to them — and the planet.”

  “I’m not posting anything. I’m already leaving. Safe travels.” The guide backs away with a forced smile, clearly a little spooked by the whole conversation.

  I pull my phone from my pocket.

  “Mine’s not working either.”

  “Maybe that’s good for you too,” Sam says, smiling with a tilt of his head.

  “Jess is going to kill me. I’ll just use yours for now,” I say to Ella, who just shrugs and climbs into the truck.

  “I’ve got a spare, if you want,” Sam offers, opening his truck door.

  “No thanks. If you’ve got something that can fry phones, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could hack every account I log into.”

  I look for the pickup key while he quietly closes the door behind me.

  “Follow me. It’ll be quick,” I hear Sam’s voice over the radio. “And yes, I could spy on you, but I’ve got no reason to. I’m not risking anything to steal your money or ruin your life on social media.”

  “You’d totally do it just for fun,” I reply, passing the radio to Zoe as she climbs into the car with her dad’s help.

  “Spying on you sounds boring as hell. If I were going to spy on someone, it’d be Daniel — like he does with me. At least his ideas are kind of worth it.” Sam waits for us to start following him.

  “Hey…” I turn the key. “... my life’s not boring. I’m super interesting to spy on.”

  “Are you encouraging me to spy on you?”

  “No… I’m just saying I’m interesting.”

  “Depends on who you ask. My life’s boring as hell, but that doesn’t stop Daniel from thinking I’m worth watching.”

  “Boring?”

  “Of course. I mean, you wouldn’t have any reason to spy on me.”

  “Right.”

  But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious.

  “Doesn’t matter. No phones for now. We’ll be in Sydney by tomorrow afternoon — you can get a new one then.

  “Already?” Zoe groans.

  “School starts the day after tomorrow,” Ella reminds her. “You made the most of your break.”

  “It was fun… but I wanted more,” Zoe complains into the mic, staring out the window sadly as we pick up speed.

  “Since this is our last night away from the city lights,” Sam suggests, “we could stay up late and do some stargazing. What do you think? We won’t need to drive much — just enjoy the evening until it gets dark.”

  “I thought you said there was still a trail to do?” Ella asks.

  “Well… it’s not exactly a trail. We’ll park the vehicles near a rock wall. It’s high up and has a nice view by itself.

  But on that wall, there’s a cave. The thing is — you have to climb to get to it. I’ve been wanting to check it out, but if you guys don’t want to, we can go somewhere else.

  It’s just that… I really want to climb up there. You can stay and watch from the drone, maybe?” He starts sounding more and more awkward, clearly worried no one will want to do it since it’s a solo activity.

  “I’m fine with that. We’ll set up to watch the stars, and you go climb. Sounds perfect — I could use a rest.” Ella says cheerfully. “JJ can go with you. He’s learned to climb.” Then she throws me under the bus.

  “Interesting…” Sam mutters, clearly meaning the opposite. “The climb isn’t rated as difficult, but I don’t think he’ll want to go.”

  “Why not?” Ella asks before I get the chance to agree with him.

  “He mentioned how attached he is to life. Not a fan of unnecessary risks. I figure he’s only into indoor climbing. Today’s different — there is strong wind, dust, wildlife, sharp rocks… it’s not exactly a gym.”

  “I’ve trained for that,” I reply, defending myself. “During filming, we had to shoot in all sorts of environments. I still train, even now, just like with martial arts.”

  This I do know how to do. Especially if it’s “easy” — I’ve done plenty of climbs marked as difficult.

  “Whatever. Do you want to go or not?” His tone is taunting, like he’s daring me to say no.

  “I can go,” I answer, just to challenge him.

  “But you don’t want to. Just watch from the drone like the others.”

  “I’m not that tired today. I can go if I want. Let’s get there first.”

  “Look to your right. See that rock wall above the trees?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Now look ahead. See how it’s getting bigger, and the road curves right toward it? The cave’s just past where the wall meets the road, right before the turnoff leading to the highway.

  If we take the short route, we go straight to Sydney. If we go the longer way, we spend one last day in Kangaroo Valley and come back along the coast.”

  “Do we really have to go to the beach with you? At least pick a deserted one — I refuse to be seen next to Sam in that ridiculous swimsuit,” I tease.

  “It’s a safety precaution,” Sam fires back. “I just don’t want to get mobbed by fangirls drooling over you like you’re Moto Moto.” He puts on a fake deep voice: “I like ’em big. I like ’em chunky. But not.” Then he rolls his eyes with theatrical flair.

  “But not?” I raise a brow, daring him to argue, flashing the cocky smile I know gets me in trouble. “Who says I don’t?”

  “Alright, Mr. Heartthrob,” he shrugs. “No judgment.”

  “He’s not Moto Moto, he’s Alex — the lion. They’re both… famous,” Zoe chimes in from beside me.

  “Always striking poses like the world’s his stage,” Sam adds.

  “My dad is Moto Moto, my mom is Gloria, Sam is King Julien, and I’m Mort.”

  “Then I must say it properly,” I grin, dropping into character: “‘No one touches the royal feet’!”

  “Well… I don’t care if you think my feet are royal. But Zoe, you’re not just the cute one. We’re the penguins, Private. Smile and wave while we watch your uncle get trampled by a crowd.”

  “Alright. ‘Smile and wave’.” Zoe grins mischievously and waves at me with evil little eyes.

  “You little devil.” I nudge her with my elbow, making her burst into even louder laughter.