she
thrust out her hips. The metal shoes skimmed forward, carrying her to within
feet of the unstable snowbank edging the canyon.
At that moment, the helicopter
swept upward.
"Come back!" she
screamed, her desperate wail reaching Morgan's now agonizingly sensitive ears.
She jumped clumsily into the air,
waving her arms like windmill blades, and wavered there for a second. Then
losing her balance, she tumbled to the earth.
The helicopter rapidly diminished
in size, disappearing behind a mass of dark clouds.
Foggily, Morgan saw Dana bury her
face in her hands, heard her sobs. His heart gave a jump of hope. If she stayed
where she was, he could reach her before—
She dropped her hands, gave an
angry toss of her head, and pounded the snowbank.
"Don't move, Dana! The
ledge!"
The crusty snow gave with a loud
crack. The edge crumbled slowly toward the abyss, pulling Dana with it.
"Daaa-naa!"
She clawed at the snow behind her.
Futilely. The avalanche continued moving, carrying her close, close, closer to
the drop-off.
With a roar, Morgan leapt forward,
ignoring the screams of his alchemizing joints. Just as the ledge gave way, he
swept Dana up like a child's toy.
An instant later they were yards
from the danger, though snow and rock still fell, clattering and echoing
against the canyon wall. Powder blew relentlessly around their legs. Wind
whipped at their clothes and skin. But all Morgan cared about was Dana, who
dung helplessly to his neck.
"Dana, Dana," he murmured
into her hair, breathing in the live scent of her, listening hard for the beat
of her blood. "I thought—oh, God—I thought I'd lost you."
She nodded furiously against his
chest. "I .. . I wasn't paying at-t-tention. The . . . the helicopter. Oh,
Morgan, they didn't . . . . didn't even see me."
Now that the threat had passed,
Morgan's body began to relax, taking his pain and fear with it. He disentangled
her hands from his neck and stared into her heartbroken eyes.
"I don't understand you, Dana.
You almost fell into that canyon, but you're more concerned about the
helicopter."
"Didn't you see those
marking?" Tears streaked down her face, but her sobs abruptly ceased,
leaving behind obvious frustration and anger. "That was a highway patrol
chopper. They're hunting for the wolves without me." She tried to whirl
away, but her snowshoes caught, scattering powder almost to their shoulders and
revealing Morgan's bare feet.
She stared down at them with a
horrified expression. "Oh, Morgan! You're getting frostbitten."
She squatted, grabbing an ankle
with her gloved hand. The warm touch shot straight to Morgan's bone and he
flinched.
"Oh, God, I've been so silly.
I'm sorry, Morgan. I'm sorry. I know better. I do. I should never have gone to
that ledge. We both could have been killed."
"You almost were," he
said harshly. "Get up. I'll be fine by morning."
"Not unless we treat
this." She scrunched the hand from which she'd earlier removed the glove
into her sleeve and grabbed Morgan's other ankle.
It hurt like hell.
"I said I'll be fine!" He
jerked free, ignoring the surprised and wounded expression that flickered
across her face. "As soon as I put my boots back on."
"Why did you take them
off?" Her emotions already hidden, she rose haughtily to her feet.
"So I could get to you before
you fell!"
"Are you saying it's my fault
you ran barefoot through the snow? Why on earth would you do that?"
"To reach you in time,"
he snarled. "Now if you don't mind, I need my boots."
Full of fury, disappointment, hurt
feelings, and myriad other bewildering emotions, Dana glared into his angry
eyes. For just a crazy minute there, when he'd held her in his arms, trembling
as if he'd recovered something of immense value, she'd almost thought he cared.
Now he acted like she was his cross to bear, a silly creature, barely worth the
effort he'd expended.
"I didn't ask you to play
hero, Morgan. What makes you think I couldn’t have gotten out of there
myself?"
A
thrust out her hips. The metal shoes skimmed forward, carrying her to within
feet of the unstable snowbank edging the canyon.
At that moment, the helicopter
swept upward.
"Come back!" she
screamed, her desperate wail reaching Morgan's now agonizingly sensitive ears.
She jumped clumsily into the air,
waving her arms like windmill blades, and wavered there for a second. Then
losing her balance, she tumbled to the earth.
The helicopter rapidly diminished
in size, disappearing behind a mass of dark clouds.
Foggily, Morgan saw Dana bury her
face in her hands, heard her sobs. His heart gave a jump of hope. If she stayed
where she was, he could reach her before—
She dropped her hands, gave an
angry toss of her head, and pounded the snowbank.
"Don't move, Dana! The
ledge!"
The crusty snow gave with a loud
crack. The edge crumbled slowly toward the abyss, pulling Dana with it.
"Daaa-naa!"
She clawed at the snow behind her.
Futilely. The avalanche continued moving, carrying her close, close, closer to
the drop-off.
With a roar, Morgan leapt forward,
ignoring the screams of his alchemizing joints. Just as the ledge gave way, he
swept Dana up like a child's toy.
An instant later they were yards
from the danger, though snow and rock still fell, clattering and echoing
against the canyon wall. Powder blew relentlessly around their legs. Wind
whipped at their clothes and skin. But all Morgan cared about was Dana, who
dung helplessly to his neck.
"Dana, Dana," he murmured
into her hair, breathing in the live scent of her, listening hard for the beat
of her blood. "I thought—oh, God—I thought I'd lost you."
She nodded furiously against his
chest. "I .. . I wasn't paying at-t-tention. The . . . the helicopter. Oh,
Morgan, they didn't . . . . didn't even see me."
Now that the threat had passed,
Morgan's body began to relax, taking his pain and fear with it. He disentangled
her hands from his neck and stared into her heartbroken eyes.
"I don't understand you, Dana.
You almost fell into that canyon, but you're more concerned about the
helicopter."
"Didn't you see those
marking?" Tears streaked down her face, but her sobs abruptly ceased,
leaving behind obvious frustration and anger. "That was a highway patrol
chopper. They're hunting for the wolves without me." She tried to whirl
away, but her snowshoes caught, scattering powder almost to their shoulders and
revealing Morgan's bare feet.
She stared down at them with a
horrified expression. "Oh, Morgan! You're getting frostbitten."
She squatted, grabbing an ankle
with her gloved hand. The warm touch shot straight to Morgan's bone and he
flinched.
"Oh, God, I've been so silly.
I'm sorry, Morgan. I'm sorry. I know better. I do. I should never have gone to
that ledge. We both could have been killed."
"You almost were," he
said harshly. "Get up. I'll be fine by morning."
"Not unless we treat
this." She scrunched the hand from which she'd earlier removed the glove
into her sleeve and grabbed Morgan's other ankle.
It hurt like hell.
"I said I'll be fine!" He
jerked free, ignoring the surprised and wounded expression that flickered
across her face. "As soon as I put my boots back on."
"Why did you take them
off?" Her emotions already hidden, she rose haughtily to her feet.
"So I could get to you before
you fell!"
"Are you saying it's my fault
you ran barefoot through the snow? Why on earth would you do that?"
"To reach you in time,"
he snarled. "Now if you don't mind, I need my boots."
Full of fury, disappointment, hurt
feelings, and myriad other bewildering emotions, Dana glared into his angry
eyes. For just a crazy minute there, when he'd held her in his arms, trembling
as if he'd recovered something of immense value, she'd almost thought he cared.
Now he acted like she was his cross to bear, a silly creature, barely worth the
effort he'd expended.
"I didn't ask you to play
hero, Morgan. What makes you think I couldn’t have gotten out of there
myself?"
A
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