Patagonia Stars – Part 2: Clear Sky

The last night on the trail was clear. There was no wind, no cloud, and for the first time since they had left El Chaltén, no reason to hurry.

Tomás had led them up a side valley to a small glacial lake, still and black and rimmed with ice. He had not told her where they were going. He had only said, at breakfast, Wear your warmest layer and leave the rest.

Now they sat on a flat rock at the edge of the water, wrapped in their sleeping bags, with the stars coming out one by one above the peaks.

"I've never seen this many stars," Ana said. Her breath made small clouds in the cold air.

"There's no city for a hundred kilometres," Tomás said. "The sky is the only light here."

They were quiet for a while. The lake lay perfectly still, reflecting the Milky Way like a crack in the night. Somewhere far off, a glacier groaned and went silent again.

"I have to go back on Thursday," Ana said.

"I know."

"I have a job. A flat with a leaking tap and a landlord who calls every Sunday. A life that's very neat." She picked at the edge of her sleeping bag. "I don't know if I want it any more."

Tomás turned to look at her, but he didn't reach for her. He had never once reached for her without asking, not in the tent, not on the trail, not when she had been crying over a text message from her ex on the second night.

"What would you want instead?" he asked.

She thought about it. The cold air burned her lungs in a good way. The stars were ridiculous, and the silence was enormous, and the man beside her had made her feel safe in a storm.

"I want to keep walking," Ana said. "I want to see where the next trail goes. And I want to know if you'll still be on it."

Tomás let out a long, slow breath.

"I've been trying not to say this for four days," he said. "I run a small guiding company out of El Chaltén. It's not rich, but it's mine. I could use a partner who doesn't mind weather, and wind, and very bad coffee." He looked at her, serious and open. "I'd like it to be you. Only if you want it too. And not because of the storm."

"Not because of the storm," Ana said. "Because of the coffee."

He laughed, the first real laugh she had heard from him all week, and the sound rang out over the still water.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "And I'm asking you too. Can I?"

"Yes."

She leaned in first, slow and careful, and he met her halfway, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw, warm against the cold. The kiss was gentle at first, then deeper, the two of them tangled up in their sleeping bags on a rock under the stars. When they finally drew apart, both of them were breathing hard and laughing softly at nothing at all.

"Stay the winter?" Tomás murmured against her hair.

"Stay the winter," Ana agreed. "Then we'll see about the spring."

Above them, a shooting star scratched a bright line across the dark. Neither of them made a wish. They didn't need to. They were already looking at each other, and the whole sky was watching.