Page 56 of Snow Balled

I knelt down to pet him as I waited. I heard her coming from a long way away. She wasn’t very good at moving through the snow, but then again, she didn’t have very good boots.

She entered the clearing and stopped short, out of breath. “I—you—I thought he’d run off.”

“He always comes back.”

Her breath came out in warm clouds. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Thank you for keeping track of him.”

She nodded. “What are you doing out here?”

“Target practice.”

Her eyes went to the bow and arrows slung over my shoulder. Then she scanned the clearing until she spotted the target about forty yards away. I’d rigged a heavy wool blanket up between two trees. A bullseye was painted on it, and I’d propped up loose branches behind it so my arrows wouldn’t sail on through and get lost in the snow beyond.

Comprehension filled her face as she realized the truth of what I’d been doing when I left the cabin with my bow.

Tristan had said I should show her the real me. This was part of it.

Moving slowly so as not to alarm her, I reached back and grabbed an arrow. Notching it, I adjusted my stance and took careful aim. The arrow flew cleanly through the crisp air and hit the second ring of the bullseye. Thanks to the branches behind it, it bounced back and onto the ground under the target.

Sierra was silent as I shot a few more times. Finally, she spoke. “Where did you learn archery?”

I shrugged. “I liked reading adventure novels when I was a kid. Fantasy stuff, where a band of misfits fight their way through a magical land. You know, the classic hero’s journey. Then in high school, I got a chance to try out archery, and I never stopped.” Though I didn’t get a chance to practice much anymore.

She nodded and inched closer, looking at my bow.

I held it out for her to see. “I’ve had this one for at least ten years. And by the way, the ones used for hunting are much different. I don’t own a compound bow.”

Her face flushed. She knew she’d misjudged me.

“Want to try it?”

“Yes.” She moved closer, but she still reminded me of prey that was prepared to bolt at any moment.

“Have you ever used a bow before?”

“Yes. Well, no.” She tried once more. “Sort of.”

“That answers that question.”

To my surprise, she gave me a sheepish grin. “It was for a straight-to-television movie when I was a kid. A bunch of us were stranded on a desert island, and we had to fight off very inept and accident-prone pirates.”

“Sounds like aPeter Panknock-off.”

“Yes, with a healthy dose ofHome Alone. I used a bow for that, but it was like a toy compared to yours.”

She’d complimented my bow… maybe someday she’d find something good to say about me.

Maybe.

“Here, stand like this.”

She copied my stance exactly, her back to me. She was an actress, so I supposed she was used to taking direction.

I put my hand on her waist—at least, I thought it was her waist. Drew’s coat was ridiculously big on her. I adjusted her stance, but then her foot slid out from under her and we had to start all over.

“When we get down from the mountain, I’m buying you a pair of real boots.”

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