“What are you doing here?” Meg hisses as I come up behind her.
Another gust of warmth sifts down from the ridge, making thelittle seedlings dance in their containers and the bare trees sway. “I didn’t want you to miss me too much.”
She gives me an exaggerated huff.
I set my seedlings down and slip on my gloves, then use my shovel to pry open the earth. I tuck a seedling into place, then close the seam and pat it secure with my boot.
Meg pulls on a pair of work gloves that look brand new. “Did you fight this fire?”
I cover my surprise that she’s making conversation by slamming my shovel into a new section of dirt, between two charred, crisscrossed logs.
“No. This is wildland territory.” But we were staged on the other side of this ridge to protect Bear Mountain, in case it spread.
She gazes down the slope, to the broad basin bisected by Thistle Creek. “How did it start?”
I slide the seedling into place. “Campfire wasn’t all the way out.”
She grabs a handful of seedlings and climbs over a fallen log. “People are so careless.”
Don’t I know it.I glance at the crew that continued with Rowdy, now mere specks on the distant curve of the ridge.
Another warm breeze sifts down from the ridgetop, stirring up the loose, blackened dirt, and rattling the dry leaves.
A thought tickles my subconscious.
Leaves?
I lunge for Meg just as her terrified cry splits the air.
Chapter Eight
I’ve already gotdirt inside my socks and gloves, making me itchy, and sweat is trickling down between my breasts. Now this?
I reach for the coiled-up fake snake Linden must have put here so I can throw it at his head when it moves.
The strike comes so fast I don’t have time to do anything but scream. And then I’m stumbling backwards, the blue sky and puffy white clouds filling my vision while a searing heat explodes from my shin.
“Meg!” Linden lunges, catching me as I flail.
“Oh my god!” I manage, panic spiking hot under my skin while sudden tremors fire through my muscles. “It bit me.” The words skip over my tongue. I sound so stupid.
“Where?” he asks in a firm voice.
My leg is on fire. I try to reach for it but I’m shaking too bad. A wave of nausea rolls through me and the sky spins. “My leg,” I manage.
He kneels with me still cradled in his arms and peels back my pant leg. Already there’s a lump with twin fang marks in thecenter of my shin. Blood is trickling from the bite and my leg has flushed a deep pink.
This time the nausea wins and I barely manage to lurch away from Linden to puke up the last of my breakfast all over the dry ground.
“Let’s go,” Linden says, rocking to his feet.
We’re moving, but everything is a blur. I cry out as the burning pain in my leg makes my entire calf muscle cramp. It’s like someone’s running a blow torch against my shin bone. My kneecap is going to burst.
“I thought it was fake.” I’m tensing my body, like I can keep the burn from spreading.
“This is my fault.” He’s focusing on where he’s going, and he’s moving fast. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”
“Am I going to die?” My lips feel tingly and I’m shivering so bad my teeth chatter.
