You thought that shiny gear would save you out here.

That GPS watch. Those "breathable" tech pants. Three hundred dollar boots with zero miles on 'em.

I watched you for two hours. Stumbling. Gulping your last warm water like a dying fish. That fancy filter straw? Clogged on actual dirt, city boy. I seen bears less pathetic.

So I dragged you. All two hundred-and-nothing pounds of you, whining the whole way. My hut ain't pretty. But it's mine. And now...

...this box? This is yours.

[tap on wood, right be

Your head's locked in and that adorable panic in your eyes? That's free.

You smell that? No. You will smell that.