Bell eyed the mountain with all the affection of a half-starved cat contemplating revenge. She shoved herself upright, wincing as the torn skin of her knees stretched and complained. Her backpack lay half a foot away, the extraneous contents Josie had insisted she bring, scattered across the mossy stones, and muddy ground.
“One way to be weaned off hiking forever,” Bell grumbled.
“Did you break anything?” The voice floated beside her ear, hopeful, familiar and insufferable.
“Just my pride.”
“An indelible mark, perhaps?”
Bell grabbed the skull and scowled at the empty sockets. “Shut up, Josie. We’re almost there.”