foot length and remove the small branches
and twigs. He then placed the stripped stems side by side and bound their ends
together, wrapping them securely with a length of nylon cord. When done, he cut
another stick into two shorter pieces, about eight or ten inches each, and
began to carve shallow notches in each end of both.
Lauren wondered what he was doing, but since he obviously intended
to ignore her, she decided to return the favor.
After leaving the hospital, she had continued her physical therapy
at a health club close to her apartment, and before long, experiencing the
benefits of regular exercise, it had been a natural next step to expand her
therapy into a full-blown regular workout regime. As with everything Lauren
undertook, she applied herself to the fitness routine with the same
determination and all-out dedication that she had to her music. Her entire life
had been about focus and applying herself, and the workouts quickly became a
routine part of her life.
Turning her back on Sam, Lauren spread her legs in a wide V and
began her warmup stretching exercises. She touched the toes of each foot with
the opposite hand, twisted from the waist as far as possible, bent to the sides
and rotated her head, shoulders and arms. She climbed to her feet and bent and
touched the floor thirty times, then, grabbing an ankle, she pulled her heel up
behind her to touch her bottom, repeated the action a dozen times, then
switched and did a dozen more with the other foot.
"Jesus! Can't you be still a minute? What the hell are you
doing, anyway?" Sam demanded when she began to jog in place.
"Isn't it...obvious? I'm exercising. I...work out at a
gym...three times...a week," she gasped between breaths. "To stay in
shape...it's important to keep...to a regular routine."
Sam snorted. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. You probably
got more exercise yesterday than you do in a month at your yuppie health
club."
Lauren ignored the snide comment and kept on jogging. Let him poke
fun. If they were going to hike down this mountain in knee-deep snow, she
wanted to be as fit as possible. If the trek was anything like what they had
done the day before, she was going to need every ounce of strength and stamina she
could muster.
For an hour Lauren jogged in place and back and forth across the
derelict cabin. Outside the grimy window the world had been reduced to a
blinding white swirl of snow. The wind whistled in through the gaps in the
chinking, bringing with it stray flakes, and now and then more found their way
through the evergreen boughs that Sam had thrown over the hole in the roof.
Except directly in front of the fire, the air in the cabin was cold enough to
vaporize their breaths, but by the time Lauren stopped exercising and sat down
on the sleeping bag again she no longer felt the chill.
She had intended to give Sam the same cold-shoulder treatment he
was giving her, but the longer she watched him the more curious she became.
While she had exercised he had somehow managed to pry the two long bound sticks
apart in the middle and lashed one of the short sticks at right angles between
them, about ten inches from one end to hold them open. Now he was doing the
same thing with the other short piece at the opposite end. The longer Lauren
watched the more intrigued she became, until finally she could no longer
contain her curiosity.
"What are you doing?"
He spared her the briefest of glances and went right on working
the twine over and around the joined sticks in an X pattern.
"I'm making snowshoes. We're going to walk out of here when
this storm passes. With all that fresh powder out there, we're going to need
these."
"Really? I've never walked in snowshoes before."
"Figures."
The sneer in his voice was too much. Ever since they'd met, his
manner toward her had been harsh and distant, even downright hostile. For the
most part, up until now, she had tread softly around him—partly because she
thought it wise not to annoy the man
and twigs. He then placed the stripped stems side by side and bound their ends
together, wrapping them securely with a length of nylon cord. When done, he cut
another stick into two shorter pieces, about eight or ten inches each, and
began to carve shallow notches in each end of both.
Lauren wondered what he was doing, but since he obviously intended
to ignore her, she decided to return the favor.
After leaving the hospital, she had continued her physical therapy
at a health club close to her apartment, and before long, experiencing the
benefits of regular exercise, it had been a natural next step to expand her
therapy into a full-blown regular workout regime. As with everything Lauren
undertook, she applied herself to the fitness routine with the same
determination and all-out dedication that she had to her music. Her entire life
had been about focus and applying herself, and the workouts quickly became a
routine part of her life.
Turning her back on Sam, Lauren spread her legs in a wide V and
began her warmup stretching exercises. She touched the toes of each foot with
the opposite hand, twisted from the waist as far as possible, bent to the sides
and rotated her head, shoulders and arms. She climbed to her feet and bent and
touched the floor thirty times, then, grabbing an ankle, she pulled her heel up
behind her to touch her bottom, repeated the action a dozen times, then
switched and did a dozen more with the other foot.
"Jesus! Can't you be still a minute? What the hell are you
doing, anyway?" Sam demanded when she began to jog in place.
"Isn't it...obvious? I'm exercising. I...work out at a
gym...three times...a week," she gasped between breaths. "To stay in
shape...it's important to keep...to a regular routine."
Sam snorted. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. You probably
got more exercise yesterday than you do in a month at your yuppie health
club."
Lauren ignored the snide comment and kept on jogging. Let him poke
fun. If they were going to hike down this mountain in knee-deep snow, she
wanted to be as fit as possible. If the trek was anything like what they had
done the day before, she was going to need every ounce of strength and stamina she
could muster.
For an hour Lauren jogged in place and back and forth across the
derelict cabin. Outside the grimy window the world had been reduced to a
blinding white swirl of snow. The wind whistled in through the gaps in the
chinking, bringing with it stray flakes, and now and then more found their way
through the evergreen boughs that Sam had thrown over the hole in the roof.
Except directly in front of the fire, the air in the cabin was cold enough to
vaporize their breaths, but by the time Lauren stopped exercising and sat down
on the sleeping bag again she no longer felt the chill.
She had intended to give Sam the same cold-shoulder treatment he
was giving her, but the longer she watched him the more curious she became.
While she had exercised he had somehow managed to pry the two long bound sticks
apart in the middle and lashed one of the short sticks at right angles between
them, about ten inches from one end to hold them open. Now he was doing the
same thing with the other short piece at the opposite end. The longer Lauren
watched the more intrigued she became, until finally she could no longer
contain her curiosity.
"What are you doing?"
He spared her the briefest of glances and went right on working
the twine over and around the joined sticks in an X pattern.
"I'm making snowshoes. We're going to walk out of here when
this storm passes. With all that fresh powder out there, we're going to need
these."
"Really? I've never walked in snowshoes before."
"Figures."
The sneer in his voice was too much. Ever since they'd met, his
manner toward her had been harsh and distant, even downright hostile. For the
most part, up until now, she had tread softly around him—partly because she
thought it wise not to annoy the man
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