Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 172

Abby

“Oh my god, Abby… could it be?”

Karl’s eyes widen next to me. I crouch down to get a closer look at the dark mushrooms nestled in the dirt at our feet.

“Yes,” I breathe, reaching out to run my finger along their tops. “This is it. Black truffles.”

This is exactly what we've been searching for, but something feels off, discordant in a way that pricks at my senses.

Karl crouches down beside me, his fingers gently touching the truffles. “They look genuine. But how is this even possible? All these truffles growing this far from sunlight? I knew they needed low light, but this…”

His words are mirroring my thoughts exactly. “I don’t think they’re growing naturally,” I murmur, my eyes scanning the cave, landing on something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I point upwards, my finger shaking slightly. “Look.”

Karl’s eyes follow my finger to the ceiling of the cave. Artificial lights hang overhead. They’re turned off right now, likely to simulate a day/night cycle for the mushrooms that are growing here. That’s why there are so many mushrooms in this cave; they’re being cultivated.

“Oh, shit,” Karl whispers, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of dread. “You don’t think—”

“That these truffles are being cultivated? By the poachers?” My heart sinks as I complete his thought. I should have known sooner, but I guess it never occurred to me until just now. “Yeah. I do.”

Karl rises to his feet, his face flushed, his eyes widening. “So should we take any?” he asks, glancing around nervously. “I mean, what if they notice?”

It’s a fair question. We came here to pick mushrooms, not to steal from illegal poachers. Not like this, at least. If they somehow found out that we stole from their stash, what would be the repercussions?

“There are so many, Karl,” I say, struggling with the conflicting emotions that are growing inside of me. “If we take just what we need, they could easily chalk it up to animals or something. And besides, we’re not the ones exploiting nature for profit.”

Karl’s eyes search mine, perhaps seeking reassurance, perhaps questioning the fine line we’re toeing between right and wrong. Finally, he nods. “Okay. Let’s do it. But like you said, we’ll just take what we need; just enough so you can practice for the cook-off.”

Getting to work, we kneel back down beside the truffle patch. My satchel lies open between us, ready to hold these precious fungi that could potentially change the tide in my quest to win the cook-off.

My hands tremble slightly as I pluck the first truffle from the ground and place it into the satchel. Karl follows suit, his own movements hesitant but growing steadier with each truffle he picks.

Finally, my satchel is sufficiently filled, a lump of dark truffles gathered at its bottom like some sort of illegal contraband. I pull the flap over and fasten it, looking up to meet Karl’s gaze.

“We’ve got enough,” I say, the words sticking in my throat. “Let’s get back to the car, and quickly, before we’re caught.”

We walk in silence back the way we came, finally stopping a little while later at the mouth of the cave, curtained by the waterfall. I can see the sunlight through the loud, rushing water now; it’s much brighter now than it was earlier this morning, which will make camouflaging ourselves a fair bit more difficult.

But there’s no turning back now. We gather ourselves, I sling my satchel over my shoulder, and together, we bolt through the cave’s hidden mouth, leaping through the cascade of water that covers the entrance.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I gasp, urging my legs to move faster.

Karl leads us off the path, veering sharply to the right, crashing through a dense wall of underbrush. Branches whip against my skin, leaving shallow cuts, but I hardly feel them. We emerge into a clearing, and for a second, we’re exposed, vulnerable.

“Over there!” Karl points to another thicket on the opposite side. “Go!”

We sprint across the open ground, the barking of the dogs growing louder and closer with every step. Just as we plunge into the new patch of underbrush, I hear the dogs burst into the clearing. It sounds like they’ve lost our trail for the briefest of moments, their barks becoming confused, disjointed.

But we don’t stop to celebrate this minor victory. Our escape isn’t guaranteed until we’re safely away, and right now, we’re anything but that.

Bursting out onto another path, we follow it until we reach the car, hidden among a cluster of trees. I’ve never been so happy to see a piece of machinery in my life.

Karl fumbles for the keys and unlocks the car. We practically fall inside, slamming the doors shut behind us. The engine roars to life, and Karl peels out of our makeshift parking spot, wheels spitting gravel and smoke as we speed down the narrow road.

For a long moment, neither of us says anything. Our breathing gradually slows, the immediate threat of capture shrinking with every yard we put between us and the forest.

Then, almost in unison, we start to laugh. It’s a giddy, almost hysterical sound, bubbling up from some sort of place that I didn’t even know existed.

“We did it, Karl,” I manage in between laughs, tears spilling out of my eyes and onto my dirty cheeks. “We did it.”