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As we moved farther from town, the farms and homes thinned out. Our pace accordingly picked up. Our intersection drill completed at the next road crossing, we continued, unnoticed as far as we could tell, reaching State Road, and our turn west. We approached the woodlot slowly, pausing perhaps 100 meters from the eastern edge. I whispered to Emily, that we needed another listening stop. We waited what seemed like forever, but was only 20 minutes per my wristwatch, before I motioned her closer, and pointed out our route.

"I think we ought to creep north, along the eastern margin of the trees. Once we reach the northern edge, turn west maybe another hundred meters, between the pond and the trees, and then move south, into the midst of the trees. Let's set up our camp there."

"Why? Wouldn't it be simpler to just go into the center from the road?"

"Yep, and likely to leave a trail for anyone who is curious what a fresh trail, into that particular woodlot, is doing there. Likely to be way more obvious in the daylight, than at night, and therefore more difficult for us to obscure at night, against daytime curious eyes."

She nodded, and gestured for me to lead. Once we had turned south, the litter of dead leaves and dry branches was considerably more dense, and so we slowed our pace, attempting to blend the sounds of our passage into the background noise of the rural night. We found a small ...

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