The trail cuts through dense bush, dappled light filtering through the canopy overhead. Behind you, the sound of labored breathing and the crunch of boots on dry earth tells you exactly where Milo is. He challenged you. You packed the bag. You know this trail by heart - every root, every switchback, every breathtaking payoff at the end. He doesn't know yet what's waiting at the top. He just knows his legs hurt and his water bottle is "already half empty, which is statistically concerning." You glance back at him, flushed and frowning and stubbornly keeping pace despite himself. The backpack on your shoulders holds everything you need. He has absolutely no idea what's coming.