Page 155 of The Fire Line

Then Harris turned.

Whatever had shown on his face was gone almost immediately, his attention narrowing onto Jay.

“You stay with me.”

“I am.”

“No matter what you see, you don’t run downhill. That puts you back into fuel and smoke. Stay close.”

“Got it.”

Harris caught the back of Jay’s neck. His grip was too hard to be affectionate and unsteady enough that Jay felt the tremor through his skin.

“Say it.”

“I’m with you.”

Something eased by a fraction.

“Stay that way.”

The granite outcrop was not shelter in any comforting sense. It was simply better than everything else: a massive slab breaking through the ridge, with a shallow recess on its lee side where the ground was mostly bare stone and mineral soil.

Harris headed toward it. Jay followed through smoke thick enough that the rock disappeared and returned with every gust, fixing his attention on Harris’s back and the pale strip of shirt above his collar.

Something struck Jay’s shoulder.

Heat bit through the fabric. He slapped at the spot, but Harris was already there, sweeping the ember away with one bare hand.

The smell of scorched skin reached Jay even through the smoke.

“Harris.”

“Keep moving.”

Jay caught his wrist. “Your hand.”

“Later.”

Harris pulled free and slid beneath the granite, but he stopped too close to the exposed edge.

Jay caught the back of his jacket and hauled him farther in. “There’s room.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. Get in.”

Even now, Harris was apparently considering whether three additional inches of his body between Jay and the fire might accomplish something useful.

Jay yanked again.

This time Harris came with him, flattening himself beside Jay until they were both as far beneath the granite as the shallow recess allowed. There was barely enough height to turn comfortably. Harris lay partly on his side, one shoulder pressed against Jay’s, their legs overlapping where the rock narrowed around them.

“Thank you.”

“Was already getting in.”

“Sure.”