out how to talk rationally to.
“Hello yourself.” She was smiling at him. “Pretty day, isn’t it? How are you? Pissed at the universe? Really? What a shocker.”
He growled. It was all he was capable of.
“So, why are you looking for me?”
“How did you…” Because he was that obvious. Evan closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then to twenty. He considered going for thirty but it wasn’t helping.
He opened his eyes and she hadn’t moved. Still had that smile that made her look so damn good, and like she knew shit that the rest of the universe didn’t.
“Look, I’m sorry about—”
“Yeah, you said that before. Dumb thing to say. Try again.”
He clenched his fists to try and keep still. To hold his focus. Clenched them until his fingers throbbed. Bore down as if he was lifting a heavy weight and…it wasn’t doing any more good than the counting had.
Evan turned and walked off across the gravel parking lot. Maybe he’d just crawl into his Toyota pickup and drive back to Montana, see if he could still get a slot with the Zulies.
This time he heard her, trotting lightly over the gravel behind him, but making far less noise than she should in the process.
“Hey, Evan. Slow down there.”
He walked past his truck. Maybe he’d just walk back to Montana. But when he hit the turn in the dirt road that led down the mountain, he walked straight across it into the trees. He’d always felt at home in the trees; something he’d missed desperately in Afghanistan. Even when they had forests there, they made no sense—thick holly and oak atop the ridges, and thinning down or gone in the desert-dry valleys.
A couple hundred yards downslope past the road he found a log. A big tree, a Doug fir that was a good four feet in diameter. It had toppled to the forest floor and buried itself halfway into the duff. Too weary to go further he sat and faced outward farther into the shadowy woods.
A small stream, probably glacier cold, ran nearby splashing brightly over stones and ducking under fallen tree limbs. It rested a brief time in a pool a dozen feet across, then continued on its way. Surrounding it were mature spruce and pin oak, no alder, a lot of detritus carpeting the ground; it had been a long time since there was a fire here.
He sat…and waited.
As silent as a deer, Krista moved up beside him and sat just a hand’s breadth away.
He’d run dry. Had no idea what to say.
So he just sat.
# # #
Krista was puzzled by Evan. He wasn’t just avoiding her. He was hurting, but not in any way she recognized.
So she sat on the log beside him and tried to puzzle it out.
When a rookie—a true rookie, not someone as massively skilled as Evan—couldn’t break through on a new skill, they’d internalize it until it became a canker sore. If she couldn’t find a way to dig it out or break through, the rookie was just gonna get stuck, maybe permanently.
Krista had also watched candidates make it through the entire training and then freeze at the door on their first fire jump after dozens of practice ones. Never get past it.
Or stand in front of their first big fire and get so hypnotized by the flames that they would have stood there gaping until the fire burned right over them.
But Evan wasn’t like any of those, so Krista didn’t even know where to begin to help. And she really did want to help. Maybe, for a change, she could stop teasing him and actually answer some of his questions.
“I grew up here,” Krista finally spoke and it was hard.
There were memories she didn’t want to relive because she couldn’t get them back. Pop was gone and had taken all of the good memories with him.
“Not here, but in the forest. North of here. Pop built fine furniture using wood off the land. My first and best memories were tramping through the woods looking for just the right piece. Could take us days. Then when we found it, I’d run home and fetch Charlie, a big roan gelding. We’d drag the log back to
“Hello yourself.” She was smiling at him. “Pretty day, isn’t it? How are you? Pissed at the universe? Really? What a shocker.”
He growled. It was all he was capable of.
“So, why are you looking for me?”
“How did you…” Because he was that obvious. Evan closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then to twenty. He considered going for thirty but it wasn’t helping.
He opened his eyes and she hadn’t moved. Still had that smile that made her look so damn good, and like she knew shit that the rest of the universe didn’t.
“Look, I’m sorry about—”
“Yeah, you said that before. Dumb thing to say. Try again.”
He clenched his fists to try and keep still. To hold his focus. Clenched them until his fingers throbbed. Bore down as if he was lifting a heavy weight and…it wasn’t doing any more good than the counting had.
Evan turned and walked off across the gravel parking lot. Maybe he’d just crawl into his Toyota pickup and drive back to Montana, see if he could still get a slot with the Zulies.
This time he heard her, trotting lightly over the gravel behind him, but making far less noise than she should in the process.
“Hey, Evan. Slow down there.”
He walked past his truck. Maybe he’d just walk back to Montana. But when he hit the turn in the dirt road that led down the mountain, he walked straight across it into the trees. He’d always felt at home in the trees; something he’d missed desperately in Afghanistan. Even when they had forests there, they made no sense—thick holly and oak atop the ridges, and thinning down or gone in the desert-dry valleys.
A couple hundred yards downslope past the road he found a log. A big tree, a Doug fir that was a good four feet in diameter. It had toppled to the forest floor and buried itself halfway into the duff. Too weary to go further he sat and faced outward farther into the shadowy woods.
A small stream, probably glacier cold, ran nearby splashing brightly over stones and ducking under fallen tree limbs. It rested a brief time in a pool a dozen feet across, then continued on its way. Surrounding it were mature spruce and pin oak, no alder, a lot of detritus carpeting the ground; it had been a long time since there was a fire here.
He sat…and waited.
As silent as a deer, Krista moved up beside him and sat just a hand’s breadth away.
He’d run dry. Had no idea what to say.
So he just sat.
# # #
Krista was puzzled by Evan. He wasn’t just avoiding her. He was hurting, but not in any way she recognized.
So she sat on the log beside him and tried to puzzle it out.
When a rookie—a true rookie, not someone as massively skilled as Evan—couldn’t break through on a new skill, they’d internalize it until it became a canker sore. If she couldn’t find a way to dig it out or break through, the rookie was just gonna get stuck, maybe permanently.
Krista had also watched candidates make it through the entire training and then freeze at the door on their first fire jump after dozens of practice ones. Never get past it.
Or stand in front of their first big fire and get so hypnotized by the flames that they would have stood there gaping until the fire burned right over them.
But Evan wasn’t like any of those, so Krista didn’t even know where to begin to help. And she really did want to help. Maybe, for a change, she could stop teasing him and actually answer some of his questions.
“I grew up here,” Krista finally spoke and it was hard.
There were memories she didn’t want to relive because she couldn’t get them back. Pop was gone and had taken all of the good memories with him.
“Not here, but in the forest. North of here. Pop built fine furniture using wood off the land. My first and best memories were tramping through the woods looking for just the right piece. Could take us days. Then when we found it, I’d run home and fetch Charlie, a big roan gelding. We’d drag the log back to
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