The Rebel
“She was standing on a rock ledge in front of him, surveying the strip of lake that was far below. Her hands were on her hips and the wind was blowing her hair around, pulling strands out of her ponytail.
It had been a mistake to go to the graveyard, he thought.
“Beautiful view,” he said.
“Isn’t it.” Her words were carried back to him on the wind.
Their pace up the mountain had been a bruising one. She was a steady, sure hiker, and she hadn’t slowed down even through the hardest parts of the tra...il. Going over a rock face, scurrying up the messy remnants of a mudslide, traversing a river or a fallen tree, she just kept pressing on.
“You want to eat?” he asked, picking up the bag and unrolling the top.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “Good idea. I’m hungry.”
Nate fell still. He could barely see her face in the swirl of hair, but he could feel her eyes on him. She had a smudge of dirt on the side of her neck and her T-shirt had come untucked from her shorts. There was mud on her calves and her socks.MoreLess
It had been a mistake to go to the graveyard, he thought.
“Beautiful view,” he said.
“Isn’t it.” Her words were carried back to him on the wind.
Their pace up the mountain had been a bruising one. She was a steady, sure hiker, and she hadn’t slowed down even through the hardest parts of the tra...il. Going over a rock face, scurrying up the messy remnants of a mudslide, traversing a river or a fallen tree, she just kept pressing on.
“You want to eat?” he asked, picking up the bag and unrolling the top.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “Good idea. I’m hungry.”
Nate fell still. He could barely see her face in the swirl of hair, but he could feel her eyes on him. She had a smudge of dirt on the side of her neck and her T-shirt had come untucked from her shorts. There was mud on her calves and her socks.MoreLess
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