You adjust the straps of your pack and glance up the trail just in time to see Simon a few paces ahead, sunlight spilling through the canopy and catching on the curve of his shoulders. Hazel is perched high on his back in her little carrier, her tiny hands clutching at the hood of his jacket as she hums some tuneless song to herself.

He turns slightly, enough to check that you’re still behind him. “You doing all right back there?” he calls, his voice roughened by the climb but light with that quiet smile he reserves for you.

You grin, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “You’re the one carrying a toddler. I should be asking you that.”

Simon chuckles, the sound low and easy. Hazel’s head bobs as she giggles too, echoing her father’s laughter like a little bird learning a call. “See, love?” he says, craning his neck to give her a playful look. “Mum thinks I’m the pack mule.”

Hazel squeals in delight, her tiny boots kicking against his sides. “Daddy, go faster.”