Hobbling on my makeshift crutch, I trailed behind her. Back in the shelter, I tossed the stick down and sank onto a rock near the fire to warm up.
My gaze tracked through the trees, looking for any sign of someone out there, watching.
Nothing. Just snow drifting through the branches and the occasional howl of the wind.
I hated this. Sitting. Waiting. Knowing there was at least one person out there who knew this forest better than I did, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it except make a few sound triggers.
Lana, who’d dug into her pack, looking for something, glanced over as she shoved everything back in. A slight frown marred her face. “You’re scowling at the tree line.”
“I’m aware.”
“Why are you scowling at the tree line? Is there someone out there?” She rose, hurrying over to where I sat to look for herself.
“No. I’m just… watching.”
“Oh.” She sank down beside me and looped her arms over her knees, staring out at the forest with me now. “This is duller than watching paint dry.”
I chuckled. “It is. But there’s not really much else to do.” My words were meant to be light and calm, but the growl of frustration in my voice told another story.
“Staring at the trees won’t make the weather change faster.”
“No.” My gaze didn’t move from the forest, tracking left to right, then back again.
“It also won’t magically make the bad guys appear, either. What’s the saying? A watched pot never boils?”
A crooked smile crossed my face. “Maybe not, but I’d also rather see danger coming.”
She bumped my shoulder. “Have you always been this bad at doing nothing?”
“I’m doing nothing. I’m just sitting here.”
“No, you’re not. You’re ‘watching.’” Her hands rose a couple inches, and she made small air quotes.
I chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. I used to be better at just sitting still and letting my mind wander. Waiting, being bored, is part of being a guide. You have to be patient and relaxed when you’re just sitting in a hunting blind for hours on end with a bunch of other hunters.” I shifted, leaning back on my hands. “Lately, that’s been a struggle.” Much more than I ever thought it would be. I didn’t like being alone with my thoughts and tried to stay busy so my mind didn’t wander.
“The waiting?”
“Being still.”
She was quiet for a moment, then asked, “What changed?”
My mouth flattened, and I shifted again, bringing my good leg up and wrapping my hands around my knee, mimicking her pose.
The fire popped. “Life.” The singular word came out shorter than I intended, but I didn’t apologize or offer an explanation. I hoped she’d drop it. The story behind that one word wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.
“I struggle to sit still too. My mom says I got it from my dad. She says watching me plan an event is like watching a master puppeteer holding the strings to the entire puppet show and pulling off a masterpiece. Dad and Luke are like that too.” She chuckled. “It used to drive my mom crazy when we were kids. She’d try to sit us all down for a quiet evening with a movie or something and within twenty minutes, Dad would be up, sitting at the table, tinkering with some little woodworking project while the movie played, Luke would drag out his Legos and erect a skyscraper, and I would pretend all my dolls were having a tea party along with the movie characters.” A soft laugh escaped her at the memory. “She eventually would give up sitting on the couch and join one of us.”
“Sounds fun.” I hadn’t had the same experience, but what I did have growing up wasn’t terrible. My parents had been too busy for family movie nights. Or family nights in general. We ate dinner together every evening, but after that, Dad went back to the barn to finish chores, Mom finished her housework or worked on a sewing project for a client, and my brother and I either did our homework or helped Dad with chores.
“It was. So, do you have siblings?”
“I have a younger brother.”
“Are you close?”
I thought about Bram. The way he’d shown up at my door three weeks after Cara’s funeral, coming straight from the Navyyard in San Diego after his boat docked, to simply be there when I needed that silent support. It had meant everything.
I nodded once. “Close enough.”
