The ridge slid away under Lachlan's boots, dust coughing up with each step.
The world below still smoked, thin and gold in the fixed afternoon. The fire lines burned themselves down to colorless heat.
He kept his rifle slung and his head low, body moving on the rhythm of need more than plan. The creature purred, pleased with direction.
There you go. She's down there. Every step's a prayer.
"Not a prayer," he muttered. "Just ground."
Same thing when you're moving toward her.
The path bent between dead juniper and rusted fence.
The scent of burned fuel clung to everything. Far off, he could see the Hummer parked behind a half-collapsed sign, Sera's shape beside it—still as stone, hair stirred by the hot wind.
His chest tightened. He hadn't realized how loud the world had been until the moment she came into focus.
Noise fell off him in strips. Breath went quiet. Joints loosened one by one like somebody had backed the screws out a half turn.
