Alex watched the man in front of him glide over the wood boards that elevated the footpath over the muck of the swampy marshland. They had been exploring the Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge when Steve signaled Alex to stay back. His large athletic body barely made a sound as it inched forward and Alex wondered if he was part Indian Warrior or part Ballerina. The man suddenly lurched and Alex had his answer.
He turned to face Alex and glided back towards him with a two-foot long snake in his hand.
"Wow Steve," Alex said impressed, "you've got some skill. Are you part Cherokee or somethin?"
"Actually, 1/16th," Steve said with a smile as he offered the writhing reptile to Alex, "or at least that's what my Mom used to tell me."
Alex didn't know why but he held out a hand to accept the gift. He wasn't particularly fond of snakes but he didn't want to seem like a wimp and was intoxicated by the confidence and swagger of the older outdoorsman.
"Woah, no, hang on" Steve quickly yelled and retracted the snake with concern on his face. Then he placed it back on the wood boards and, while still holding it's body firm, stepped on its head. Alex heard the distinct sound of bones cracking and watched as the life left the previously animated body. "That was poisonous son," Steve said as he ground his boot into the skull for good measure. Then he tossed the carcass into the brown ooze.
"What the - why did you offer it to me then?" Alex said suddenly pissed off as he took a step back from the bloody mark left behind by the snake.
Steve broke into a big toothy smile. His red cheery cheeks lifted his full but well-trimmed beard. Wrinkles radiated from his eyes. His was the smile of a prankster, a magician, the best friend that relished in your embarrassment. "Did you get bit?" he finally asked the young man.
Alex instinctively checked his hand but already knew the answer. "No," he replied.
"Good." Then Steve turned and continued down the path.
Alex looked around. Then he scratched his head. Then he watched the tight ass of the asp-killer as it swaggered away into the mouth of the woods that stood at the end of the pine planks. Then he felt his cock twitch. "Fuck," he thought to himself as he walked rapidly to catch up to the denim short and tee-shirt magnet that got swallowed up by the forest and pulled him into the void.
They walked in silence through the refuge on the coast of Maine just south of Portland. Steve led Alex through marsh and some wood and some prairie. Alex always stayed within a few meters of the man to avoid separation. It wasn't that Alex was afraid of getting lost. He had grown up in this area and had walked this path several times with his family, friends and girlfriend. He recognized each turn and each boulder. He knew exactly how many minutes they were from the next parking lot or cross trail. No, Alex was not afraid of getting lost. Invisible forces pulled Alex toward the mass of the real man with firm ass and confident stride. But also guilt and fear and an odd sense of submissiveness served to repel him at the same time. A few steps behind Steve was Alex's equilibrium. Not too close and not too far.
Alex looked over his shoulder through the trees as they walked the bluff along the water's edge. The Atlantic Ocean spread out over the horizon just as dusk started turning the sky a dark shade of blue. His heart skipped a beat and Alex wondered if it was due to his exertion, the company he was keeping today or more likely a creeping mournfulness. In six weeks he'd leave Portland for college and he sensed that these woods and these people would become known as the place he came from but no longer his home. His new home was out there in the world.
"Hey," Steve's voice shouted in Alex's ear and he looked forward just in time to avoid collision with his leader who had stopped. Steve laughed and held out a steadying hand as Alex faltered. Alex took it. It was warm and strong and calloused.
"Sorry," Alex muttered and he regained his balance.
"No worries," Steve said and offered Alex an open pouch filled with granola looking flakes and fruit. Alex shook it off. Steve plunged a large hand into the opening and snatched grain and berries then tossed the morsels in his mouth in almost neanderthal like hunger.
"Gettin' dark," Steve said while masticating his snack. "We should head back."
Alex let out a chuckle.
"Somethin' funny," Steve said.
Alex pointed shyly back at Steve while maintaining his chagrin. But this clue was not enough and Steve suddenly looked annoyed and shrugged. "You've got blueberries and crap in your beard," Alex finally managed to explain.
Steve reflexively moved a hand to his facial hair and shook and combed the scrub. He looked at Alex for a visual OK.
"Well, still there," Alex confirmed and then did something completely out of his character. He raised his hand and stroked the man's beard in an attempt to dislodge the trapped crumbs. Alex had never felt a man's beard before; why would he. His Dad and brothers preferred to be clean-shaven. As for his own face, his Mom had a larger mustache than his feeble peach fuzz. The feel of the hair surprised him. He expected something rough and cruel, like a brillo pad. Instead it felt soft with just the faint sting of ticklish prickle.
Steve flinched slightly at the brazen encroachment of his personal space then held still. His face softened as the young man's hand caressed and played with his chin.
"There," Alex proclaimed after a moment and presented the now detangled dried berry and flaky crumbs in his hand for Steve to verify. Then he did another uncharacteristic gesture, he popped the crumbs into his mouth. As he swallowed he watched Steve eye him suspiciously as Steve ran a hand through his beard in thoughtful consideration. Alex turned away and looked back at the ocean. Red blood filled his cheeks and he blinked.
