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conclusion that we need to return Charlotte to the wild,” he said.
    I was resistant to this idea at first. I liked Charlotte and had imagined that when Otto finally left my home the two of us would lead a content existence together. Perhaps you are aware that snapping turtles have life spans nearly as long as humans’ and as such make for good long-term companions.
    But Otto laid out his plan and I couldn’t deny the simple logic of it. We would return to the location of their misfortunes. Charlotte belonged back in her homeland now that she was well. And the journey would be cathartic for us all, he claimed.
    Maria wanted nothing to do with such an endeavor, but we managed to persuade Tom and Sheila to join us for the trip. It was late fall, and chilly, by the time we got everything together and set off. Tom brought along a crossbow because he claimed it was bow-hunting season and he hoped to shoot an animal of some sort.
    â€œI’d be more than happy to dress and cook it for everyone while we’re camped along the river,” he said.
    â€œNo, thanks,” said Sheila. She was a vegetarian.
    Tom refused to apologize for wanting to eat Charlotte back when she had been injured.
    â€œIt would have saved us a lot of trouble,” he pointed out. “Though I do support returning her to her natural state since the resources have already been wasted bringing her back to life.”
    â€œShe was never dead,” I pointed out.
    â€œClose enough,” said Tom.
    Otto was stoic throughout the journey down the river. He spoke softly to Charlotte, who rode in a large cooler beside him, and pointed out the sights along the shoreline.
    Tom and I took to drinking whiskey from a tin flask, and by the time we reached the sandy cliffs where Otto had crashed months before, I was feeling sick. We had gotten a late start that morning and the days were shorter at that time of year, so it was nearly dark.
    â€œWe’ll camp here,” declared Otto, “and release Charlotte in the daytime. She might get disoriented if we let her go at night.”
    â€œI’m going hunting,” said Tom. He donned a headlamp and smeared mud on his cheeks. “I’ll go get us some dinner.”
    Tom stumbled off into the woods and that was the last I saw of him.
    I helped Sheila set up the tents and then passed out inside one of them. Outside, I could hear Otto making a fire and chattering away with Charlotte. He was full of energy and kept calling out for Tom. At some point Sheila crawled inside my tent and said, “I’m cold. Can I sleep with you?”
    I woke up in the morning, naked, holding on to Sheila, who was naked as well. My arms and head were freezing, having been exposed to the cold all night. Sheila shivered and huddled farther beneath our blankets. She felt wonderfully soft and warm and I tried to remember what we had done together.
    Eventually I wandered out of the tent and found the fire still smoking. The other tent was empty and one of the canoes gone. On Charlotte’s cooler I found a note. It said:
    WENT LOOKING FOR TOM —OTTO
    The sun rose and things got warmer. I made myself some coffee and began to feel awake and good. I splashed some of the cold river water on my face and looked around for signs of Otto and Tom. It was all trees and wilderness. Sheila and I seemed to be the only humans for miles.
    Up above me loomed those tall sand cliffs. Sheila was still sleeping and I decided Charlotte had been left in that cooler long enough. It was my understanding that Otto wanted to make some kind of ceremony out of releasing Charlotte back into the wild, but I overruled him. I placed the cooler in the remaining canoe and paddled across the river to the cliffs and the spot where Charlotte and Otto had collided earlier that summer. It was difficult to determine the exact place, but when I’d gotten close enough I opened the cooler and dumped Charlotte in the river. She