The girl with the argyle socks would not get an answer or an explanation for why the man with the rifle didn’t leave her behind. When she woke up from a day-and-a-half’s sleep, he was nowhere to be heard or seen. She called out to him, not knowing his name, but remembering the word “Hazel 38” embroidered onto the sleeve of his jacket. There was no response. She sat up and stretched her arms behind her back as she yawned into the sky. She wondered how much longer his wild honeysuckle scent would linger in the air.