"Like I always said to Cathy, always savor your friendships, because you don't ever know when they'll help you," the professor spoke with a raspy throat, spilling energy-filled chocolate chips into one of Jackie's aluminum bags marked '4'.

"You know what you're talking about," I muttered.

"Of course I do. Cathy, what an odd but lovable one. Went through an awful high school heartbreak, vowed to never love again. Not even engage in friendships." His swift hands worked through the tangle of chocolate, moving next to the sandwiches Jackie had froze the day we went ice fishing by the Aleutian Tern colony.

"What made her change her mind?"

The professor sighed. "Oh, I came along. We went off on an off campus trip to the Galapagos. Always fond of Darwin, and going on a boat ride there was a once in a lifetime opportunity. One early morning I went out, and saw her weeping under the mast. Supposed she was so taken by the wrapping dawn cloaking the ocean lines, but there was a more pungent scent than ocean salt. Tears always softened my heart.

Though she resisted at first, I ended up comforting her. She told me everything." Carter paused, pouring the rest of the melted chocolate into a rusted thermos jar. "What a sweetheart she really was. We enjoyed the rest of the trip as friends. Soon we turned intimate. Now I've been married to her for twenty years," Carter gulped. "Like I said, savor what friendships you have, because you never know what it'll turn into," he added.

"Wow Professor Carter," I murmured, unsure of what to say next. Carter was always the no joke, get things done on the syllabus kind of teacher. There was never a point in class where he shared any of his life moments or brought in any pictures to put up on his desk. He must have been respecting Cathy's wishes. Seeing the sentiment come out at last, there was something special about that. Nobody would've guessed he would share one of his finest memories with some wax-feathered, stone cold girl.

"Yeah," he said, folding a sheet of lettuce over tomatoes as if he was tucking them in bed. "Please don't tell Jackie. I just don't like telling these things to people I don't know, never my students."

"I promise." And the truth was sealed.

"We depart sunrise, right Timber?"

I smiled at the horrendous nickname, given to me when I failed to axe down a Douglas Fir back in Fresno. "I guess so."

"Let's take on the Land of the Forgotten," Professor Carter spoke, roping his camouflage backpack over his crooked shoulder. "Got the LaMotte?"

"Check."

"Tents?"

"Jackie has them."

"Jackie?"

"Refueling the snowmobiles."

"Water?"

"Nearly twenty gallons in the

Vaporizer."

"Excellente," Carter beamed, seemingly recovered from the sudden onslaught of emotional stress.