[center][img][/img][/center][hr][hr]The little space between bodies within the bus was occupied by the dense humidity, leaving little air for the lungs to steal for themselves. Rivulets of sweat went unmanaged and soaked through the occupants clothing, attaching the fabric to their frames. The undeniable scent of body odor had begun as a faint undertone, but was steadily growing to a more offensive level with each raise of an arm or shift in a seat. The seemingly permanent curl of Bonnie Carter’s upper lip was enough to show her strong discontent with the situation.
 
The heat and humidity? She could handle that without issue. Louisiana would laugh at this heat index and her hair was a mess with or without it. The cramped seats? She had lived in a van with her family that a sardine would feel cramped in. But this smell. Her eyes flickered occasionally to the men surrounding her, as if accusing them, before landing again on the rust spot near where her right shoulder was pressed against the wall. She had been picking meticulously at the area for a majority of the ride, her vividly red fingernail lifting the textured edges of the corrosion until it became flush with the unaffected metal. She had curled her legs beneath her small frame and had forced her small pack deep into the space below between the seats. The bag was light enough, as its contents were only those that had been deemed absolutely essential to a through-hiker, but even its minor presence on the young woman’s lap had grown to be a discomfort. She had attempted to position her head comfortably in every imaginable way, but the neverending jolting and jostling of the vehicle made rest impossible. Not to mention the guy two seats ahead that had made it his mission to share his life story with the entire lot of them. 

Bonnie was one of the last to step down from the bus and therefore found herself lifting up onto the tips of her toes in an effort to peer above the mess of people that had already congregated in front of her. Clean shaven heads, trimmed edges, gelled side parts. She spotted them all, but no hair styles that were definitely or stereotypically feminine. It had been ingrained in since she was a child that should she be in need of help, she should find a woman. Should she be lost or uncomfortable, she should find a woman. A drunk night at a bar in San Marcos and a woman bought her a cab home. A woman paid for her groceries when that month’s paycheck fell short. Perhaps it was wrong, perhaps it was falling in line with a corrupt societal expectation, but still Bonnie searched for a ponytail or bun in that moment.

Joe’s voice was clear even from the back of the crowd and his direct instructions were appreciated. His subtle reassurance that he would offer a level of protection to the campers also provided Bonnie with something of a comfort. Bonnie filed slowly forward as others cleared, not understanding the rush that surged forward as the counselor stepped aside. She took that free moment of waiting to scan what she could see of the area, deciding quickly that the environment they were in was entirely foreign to her. The density of the surrounding forests left Washington state cowering. 

Bonnie smacked at her neck and raked her nails across what she knew to be a new mosquito bite. [color=598527]“Do we get to leave if we contract Malaria?"[/color] She muttered just below her breath as she scanned the bulletin board for her tent assignment.