Hello Sunshine

"Probably. Shame to miss out on the good jerky, though. Look how I suffer for my art." Corrie raises the back of her hand to her forehead, an exaggerated tragic gesture not made any more serious by the phone still held in the hand she made it with.

As she locks up and starts to make her way down to the car, she flicks back through the emails. She hardly needs reminding of the basics, but there are things she'd like to double-check: sizes, resolutions (both easily within the capabilities of her gear), the actual subject of the article to be accompanied. Also the rates, of course. Good to remind herself that it's worth all this last-minute hassle.

 

"Hah. I'm willing to sacrifice some of my stash for the good of the universe. Having you suffer unjustly would be cruel," he laughs.

He unlocks the door and slides in with a hum, flicking on the radio once they're buckled in.

 

"Have I mentioned recently that you're my favorite person in the world?"

The store's not that far, but there'll be time to finish her recheck. Everything looks good.

 

"You can always tell me again," Lee laughs.

~

By the time you're heading out, everything's been checked off, and you've had a cheerful goodbye, along with a "stay safe, Corrie! See you again soon."

 

Ugh. Airports. Corrie can't wait for the invention of commercial teleportation or something. Whatever the next big thing is going to be. Just as long as it doesn't require all that hurry-up-and-wait or for everyone to be packed in like sardines. At least it wasn't a long flight.

Now she's got her rented truck, her gear stowed in the passenger seat and the gallon jugs of water piled into the back, making her way up a dirt road and slapping the steering wheel in time with the radio. The Park Service map puts a small canyon over this way. Those usually have some good-looking geology going on.

 

The weather is going to be hot, but the radio is coming through strong. No storms, just hot, dry heat coming your way in the morning.

It's looking like it's going to be a gorgeous day, and the sunrise is already breathtaking.

 

Oh, yes. It may take a little caffeination to get out this early, but is it ever worth it.

Corrie pulls over when the sun is just barely beginning to peek out and set the world on fire. There's a bit of hiking left to do to reach the canyon, but she'll grab some shots of this beautiful moment before she even starts to think about that part. The tripod is slid out of its bag and erected with a practiced hand.

 

It's going to be a perfect day.

 

Oh, yeah. This is the kind of morning they put in tourism brochures. Corrie takes a few shots, adjusts the angle a bit, takes a few more, adjusts the exposure, the focus. The air is just starting to warm, not yet oppressive at all.

There's a Joshua tree that might make a nice silhouette against the sky if she moves a few yards over and shortens the tripod by... oh, yes. That's a nice one. Take a couple more to choose the best from later. The noise of the truck has probably sent any animals into hiding for the time being, but isn't there something special about the hardscrabble desert foliage and even the bare stone?

 

There's a quiet rustling near the stones nearby, and you see a scaly little head poke its' way out, examining the landscape with a flick of its' tongue, carefully making its way into the light of the sunrise. It moves, defying the fear of the other animals in the area, slowly making it's way into view, bold as brass - and who wouldn't be, if they were poisonous? It's quite the sizable specimen, too, nearly two feet long.

 

Quietly, because even particularly bold creatures can still be spooked- or, worse, provoked- Corrie switches back to a faster shutter speed, better for living things that might decide to move. The publication hasn't asked for any wildlife shots, but what they don't want she could still sell elsewhere.

(Rolled Int + Animal Ken, 2 successes) Especially since it's a really good-looking Gila monster, too. By Gila monster standards. Bright glossy scales and all that? Almost enough to make her want to take it home as a pet if that weren't hideously unethical in about five different ways as well as dramatically increasing the odds of Lee finally snapping and trying to kill her.

Much better to just take a bunch of pictures until it wanders off.

 

The gila monster's head turns, slowly, towards her, and sticks out its' tongue, taking a step closer and scenting the air. One foreleg raises up, slightly, as though it's waving.

 

Oh God that's adorable. That's something she'll be zooming way in on, thank you very much.

They're not human-aggressive unless you go and try to grab them, Corrie is pretty sure. Even if this one turns out to be crazy or something, there's enough room between her and it that the possibility of getting chomped on doesn't loom particularly large in her mind.

 

The one in front of her camera stares, then begins moving a bit more, seeming to practically pose for her camera. Despite the usual attitudes of wildlife, it seems that this one enjoys the attention.

 

Lucky day. If Corrie believed in things like omens, she'd probably decide that this bodes well for the whole trip. As it is, at least it bodes well for this morning.

The sun's at the point that could decently be called "up" now, and the first tickle of thirst is in Corrie's throat. She tugs the bite valve of her water pack up to her mouth before shortening the tripod again, crouching down along with it, for a more on-the-level look.

 

The little gila monster watches you, peering at your camera as you move to get pictures from a new angle, cautiously trying to paw at the lens. It lets out a curious little noise, then opens its' mouth and tries to scare the camera.

 

That's actually kind of startling! Once she's recovered, Corrie hopes that when she twitched in surprise and pressed the trigger, that it got that display, but either way, if the little monster is trying to be scary then she's probably worn out her welcome where it's concerned. She's stayed by the truck longer than she originally intended to anyway, to get the shots of it. (He? She? Can you sex a Gila monster by sight? She'll have to google that when she gets back to the land of Wi-Fi.)

She tries to get unthreateningly to her feet- that is, she does get to her feet and tries to be as unthreatening as she can while doing it- and starts picking up her gear. Once she grabs some more things from the truck, she'll be ready to hike the rest of the way to the canyon.

 

The little lizard looks pleased with itself as the camera retreats.

It also looks very pleased with the idea of trying to follow Corrie, following her around as she collects her gear, relaxed once more, having displayed dominance over the one-eyed intruder.

 

Lunchbag with jerky, trail mix, and extra bottle of water, check (and the Camelbak is still practically full too); map and GPS, check; small-first-aid-kit-for-when-you-can't-carry-the-main-first-aid-kit-around, check; camera gear, naturally, check. A small tube of sunscreen for after she inevitably sweats what she's wearing all off is still in Corrie's pocket, and the bear spray which might or might not actually help in the unlikely event of a mountain lion attack but which makes Lee... and Corrie, if she's totally honest... feel better is in her other pocket. That should be plenty for the hike.

When she locks up the truck and turns around, a familiar-looking black-and-orange lizard is looking distinctly pleased with itself.

"I'm getting out of your hair, buddy, don't worry." says Corrie.

 

The lizard seems to listen, then scampers towards the truck, snapping up a stray insect before slowly making its way towards a new vantage point to hunt...

As you look across the desert, a single eagle wings its' way from a far off joshua tree, soaring up into the brightening morning sky.

The day is one of vast opportunity, and you're in the ideal position to take it.