It was later that day; Drake had talked George into going up on the mountain to this old hiking trail Drake rather fond of. George didn’t mind the hiking trail all that much; he didn’t care for the damn mosquitoes. The two had been walking for a good while before Drake came to a nice clearing in the trees where there was a fallen down tree stump and fire put that had already been prepared.
Drake sat down on the log and began fiddling with a match and shortly after he had a camp fire going. It wasn’t all that late and the temperature hadn’t really dropped quite enough to justify a fire, however George wasn’t much of an outdoors man so he didn’t question his brother he just sat down on the log next to his brother.
“Keeps the mosquitoes away,” Drake said as he motioned towards the fire. George nodded in agreement.
The two men sat in silence just soaking up their closeness to nature. Drake was especially relaxed out here in the wild. George was a little tense and Drake handed him a small join, George had been off the pot for a good six months now so he was a little reluctant to take the hit, but his brother held it out inviting him, so he partook. It was a funny feeling he chocked for a few seconds and then handed it back, that was not pot, what the hell was it?
“It’s an old Native American herb; it’s not a mind altering substance it’s just supposed to help you become one with nature.”
This was not the Drake that George knew, and it was beginning to worry him. The two men sat and smoked the, whatever it was, and after a few minutes George was beginning to feel sick to his stomach.
“How about we set up down by the river and see if we can catch ourselves a couple of fish for supper, what do you say?”
George replied, “I can’t say no to that.”
Drake walked over to a fallen log where he had apparently been keeping his fishing gear and gathered up his fishing supplies. He turned to George with a very dry smile and said,
“George, I am so glad you came up here to see me. I have so much to tell you.”