“I’m sorry you won’t fit inside with us,” Winter told Snowball, who had ducked his head into the cave and turned his rump to the wind. She tossed the blanket over his back, smoothing it out and frowning when it came only halfway down his sides. “I’ll get a rope and tie it on you,” she said, giving him a pat before rushing back to her saddle.
She pulled a small coil of rope from one of her bags, then ran back, looped the rope around Snowball’s girth, and tied it securely. “There, that’ll keep most of your heat in,” she said, swiping a large snowflake off her eyelash so she could see to undo Snowball’s bridle strap. She carefully let the bit slip from his mouth, then affectionately rubbed one of his ears. “Go find yourself a sheltered place to sit out the storm,” she said, looking him square in his large brown eye. “I won’t tie you up, so you can graze in the meadow and drink from the brook, but don’t you go wandering off to Tom’s,” she instructed. “I don’
t want him knowing I’m up here, and I don’t want him worrying about me, understand?”
Snowball let out a deep-bellied sigh that puffed a cloud of warm moist air toward her. He then closed his eyes without so much as taking a step toward shelter, apparently deciding this was as good a place as any for a nap. Winter turned to Gesader to see to his needs when she suddenly realized what she’d just said to Snowball.
She didn’t want Tom worrying about her, but what about her parents? And Robbie? Come to think of it, she thought with a frown, how come they hadn’t chased after her?
She was going through a terrible crisis here, and her mama and papa had just let her run away.
And Robbie. What in curses kind of guardian was he, to let her shoot past him without even trying to stop her? Didn’t they realize how traumatized she was? Didn’t they care?
Winter’s frown turned into a scowl aimed at herself. Of course they cared;they cared enough to give her time and space to think over their news. They realized coddling her wouldn’t make the problem go away, but only make themfeel better.
“Oh, Gesader,” she whispered, falling to her knees to hug him. “They must be worried sick about me being out here alone in this storm. I’m the one who hasn’t cared enough to let them know I’m okay.”
She reached in her jacket pocket, pulled out her cell phone, and checked to see what kind of signal she had. Only one bar, but hopefully enough to get through. She pushed the speed-dial for Gù Brath, praying her parents weren’t home as she listened to the phone ring on the other end.
She sighed with relief when the answering machine picked up. “I-I’m just calling to tell you that I’m safe and warm and that I probably won’t be home for a few days. Gesader is with me, and we’ve found shelter, so I don’t want you to worry,” she said before reaching for the END button. She suddenly put the phone back to her mouth. “Oh, and I’m shutting off my cell phone to save the battery, so don’t worry if I don’t answer. Leave a message if you want, and I’ll check my voice mail. I…I love you,” she finished in a whisper, pressing END and then the power button before tucking the phone back in her pocket.
She buried her face in Gesader’s wet fur as unbidden tears suddenly filled her eyes again.
“Curses,” she muttered, “I thought I was cried out.”
A warm, rough tongue lapped the side of her face, amplifying how very cold she was. But Winter didn’t care, as this crying business was harder on a body than the weather. Darn it, she had to get herself under control. Wallowing in self-pity never solved anything.
Winter sat up and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Come on, brat,” she said with herculean determination, getting to her feet. “I’ve got to build a fire and get out of these wet clothes.”
Gesader also stood and shook a gallon of water off his hide, along with a good pound of snow.
He padded over to Snowball, startled the dozing horse with a quick lick on his nose, then padded into the cave ahead of Winter.
The first thing Winter did was find the lantern Matt had bought from Rose, then she rummaged around in her saddlebags for the watertight pack of matches she always carried. It took her three matches to light the kerosene lantern, which she then held up to visibly scan the cave, looking for firewood.
For an executive, Matt Gregor was proving to be an excellent mountain man, she decided with a smile, finding a three-to-four day supply of wood stacked against the side wall. Winter set the lantern on the ground in the center of the cave and gathered up an armful of dry logs, promising herself that as soon as the storm was over she would replace what she used. She crouched in front of the cold fire pit by the entrance of the cave and started fashioning a tepee of smaller twigs, slowly building it up with increasingly larger pieces of wood. Finishing just as a cold shiver wracked her body, Winter quickly searched the cave for paper or birch bark to use for starter. She couldn’t find anything, other than a binder of printouts she couldn’t decipher that had Matt’s handwriting all over the pages. She definitely didn’t dare burn that. Her search continued, eventually ending at Matt’s sleeping bag when she spotted the pinewood staff Gesader had dropped there.
She stared at that staff, remembering the surge of energy she’d felt in Daar’s cabin when she’d touched it. “Hmmm.” She looked toward Gesader lying next to the unlit fire pit. “What do you think?
Can I light a fire without starter or matches, brat? Robbie and Daar do it all the time.”
Gesader didn’t offer an opinion, but started licking his paws. Winter looked back at the staff.
How hard could it be? Surely all she had to do was point the thing at the fire and command the wood to ignite.
She picked up the staff somewhat hesitantly, expecting the maelstrom to attack her again. But there was no light, no flashing rainbow of colors, no roaring in her ears. In fact, nothing more than a gentle tingle traveled through her, but it did warm her up a bit. Somewhat disappointed by the lack of fireworks, Winter scooted back to the pit. She stayed at least three feet away, pointed the staff at the tepee she’d made, and said, “Light my fire!”
A percussion strong enough to shake the entire cliff blasted inside the cave, along with an explosion of energy so powerful it knocked Winter flat to the ground. Gesader jumped to his feet with a startled roar and ran outside with a yelp.
Winter lay on the floor of the suddenly dark cave, blinking in dazed awe. But it wasn’t until she smelled something burning, looked at the fire pit and saw nothing, that she truly became alarmed.
“Curses!” she shouted, catching sight of the smoldering pile of blankets. She jumped to her feet, grabbed the blankets, ran to the entrance of the cave, and threw the pile outside. Then she started stomping on them, using her feet to spread them out and kick snow over the smoldering patches.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” she snapped at Gesader, who was sitting ten feet away in the swirling snowstorm, his lips curled up in his snarling panther smile. He sneezed three times in rapid succession and trotted past her back into the cave.
Winter looked down at the wet and dirty blankets. Was that blasted staff directional? Did it have a holding end and a lethal end, or what? Holy hell, Gesader had been running around with the accursed thing in his mouth all day. He could have caught the entire forest on fire!
The wind blew snow down the front of her open collar, and Winter shuddered. Darn it, she had to get warm and dry before she caught a cold. She picked up the blankets with a tired sigh, shaking them out one at a time to make sure the fire was extinguished, then folded them back into a pile. She carried the pile in the cave, but not before taking one last peek at Snowball. He had fallen asleep again, though now he was standing a good twenty feet away behind a large spruce tree.
The first thing Winter did after tossing the blankets back in the corner was hunt up the lantern, which she discovered on its side against the back wall. She thanked her lucky stars it was a safety lantern, and that the flame had blown out rather than exploding kerosene over everything and igniting a real fire. Gesader was again curled into a tight ball by the still-unlit pit, and Winter was back to not having anything to use for starter. She didn’t dare pour kerosene on the wood, knowing how quickly that could get out of control—especially the way her luck was going.