We arrived and settled in the last campsite. We were an anomaly at Dougan Creek. Not there to hunt, not there to drink, nobody was sure how we fit in. We walked to the water and because it was overcast and chilly, we were alone on the rocky beach. The Washougal River, clear and cold, sang to us. So did an American Dipper, bobbing and calling from the nearest rock. I decided this was a good time to do an Animal Medicine Card spread. I shuffled the deck and focused my energy. I announced to Bello, this is a card for right now. And I turned over the Fox. Camouflage. "If Fox has chosen you, it is a sign that you are to become like the wind, which is unseen yet is able to weave into and through any location or situation." I looked down at my sun bleached pants with river rocks piled on each knee. I laid back and felt the beach accept my weight. I imagined that if someone were to come down the trail, they might not notice my shape, flat amongst the stones. This thought was soothing and neutralizing. I felt my mood shift and become more balanced. The manic energy that had come from my break-up subsided. It slipped from me like an eel. I felt a moment of sorrow to lose that flippant, silky high. I then realized the sorrow was not from the loss of the high, it was what lay underneath the high. I have made decisions that mean I now camp alone. Intentionally alone. So that I can stop talking, stop moving, stop pretending to know. So that I can learn. Unnoticed in faded canvas, among the grey stones, in the white light.