As the cramp starts to relax, the rest of her does as well, as the stress and the hours without sleep begin to catch up with her. Her chin dips and her eyes find themselves gazing at the very top of Koda’s uncovered head. The moonlight brings out the bluish highlights in her deep black hair and Kirsten, to her private horror, watches as her own hand lifts from its place on her lap and reaches out to brush gently against the shining mass. It is just the briefest of touches, but it lingers sweetly in some deep part of her that isn’t hotly debating between crawling beneath the very rock she’s sitting on and—the current frontrunner—running as fast and as far as she can and not stopping until she reaches, say, Outer Mongolia.

Manny notices and quickly looks away, suspecting that he’s unintentionally intruding on a very private moment.

As quickly as it’s come upon her, the panic fades away at the sight of arresting blue eyes and a sweetly crooked smile that now fills her field of vision. There is no judgment to be seen in Koda’s striking features. Only kindness, compassion, and caring. “Better now?” Koda asks, her voice low and soft.

Kirsten clears her throat, suddenly aware of its dryness. “Yes.” She swallows. “Much. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” A canteen is thrust into Kirsten’s hands. “Here. Drink this. You’re dehydrated.”

“You mean it wasn’t the snowshoes?”

“A little of both, maybe,” Dakota concedes, slipping the heavy boot back over Kirsten’s foot, fastening it securely, then rising to her full height. “Take a little more. Yeah, that’s it. We’ve still got a few hours ahead of us, if you think you’re up to it.”

With a nod, Kirsten hands back the canteen and gets back up on legs that are steady and blessedly pain free. “I’m up to it. Let’s get going.”

With an amused glance at her cousin, Koda starts out after the fully recovered and determined young woman striding ahead.

Manny just rolls his eyes and follows along.

*

A chill wind, heavy with the scent of snow, cuts sharply through the small grove of trees. The winter-bare limbs rattle like the bones of a hundred skeletons in a hundred closets. At the sound, Dakota looks up from her task of planting the last of the anti-tank mines. The sky is thick with turbulent clouds, angry in a way she knows all too well.

Manny follows her glance upward, wincing. “Shit. Base said no weather tonight.”

“Probably fucked up those satellites too,” Koda grunts, turning back to her work.

“I’m guessing this is a bad thing,” Kirsten remarks, walking over from her spot a few yards away.

“Depends on your definition of ‘bad’,” Dakota deadpans, not looking up from her precise placing of the mine beneath the snow.

The barest glint of a smirk sharpens Kirsten’s eyes. “Would you like the Mirriam-Webster-Turner version, or would you be content with the Oxford Condensed Unabridged?”

Manny’s slow motion head turn is the stuff of old-time silent movie classics and Kirsten enjoys every second of it. She’s not exactly sure why she derives such pleasure from getting this brash young pilot’s goat. Perhaps it’s her way of telling him that she will be accepted on her own terms. Why she desires acceptance from a man who is, for all intents and purposes, a stranger is another question she doesn’t have an answer for.

Deer in the headlights, she thinks, raising an eyebrow and daring him to respond. And he looks as if he’s going to, right up until the time that both his military training and the realization of exactly who she is conspire to ambush him. His snappy comeback dies on his lips, and he turns away, pretending to study the roiling sky.

Perfectly aware of the little drama taking place mere feet away, Koda takes her time placing the last mine. Rising, she casually dusts her gloves off on her thighs, then gives Kirsten a deliberately pointed look before clapping her cousin on the back. “Alright, flyboy. Time to make tracks.”

“Bless you,” Manny half whispers before looking through the copse of trees directly ahead. “Uh oh.”

Koda looks up just in time to see the heavy squall move toward them with the speed of an oncoming train. “Shit.” She glances over her shoulder. “Kirsten, grab my pack. Don’t let go no matter what, understand?”

“Whiteout!” Manny shouts just as the storm descends, bathing them in a world of blinding, pure white.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

KIRSTEN BECOMES IMMEDIATELY disoriented as the howling wind whips the snow around her face and body, blinding her completely, and stinging the exposed areas of her skin like a studded whip. “Dakota!”

“It’s alright! You’re safe!” Koda shouts to be heard above the shrieking wind. Reaching out blindly, she manages to capture Kirsten’s arm and she pulls the other woman forward and tight against what little shelter her larger, longer body can offer. “Don’t let go!”

“Not on your life!”

A massive bolt of lightening splits the sky, and the resulting crack of thunder shakes the earth around them with brutal force. Kirsten’s implants howl in outrage and she lifts her free hand to her forehead, trying fruitlessly to numb the spike of pain chiseling itself into her skull. The air stinks of burning rubber, and she can taste metal in the back of her mouth. Thunder? In the middle of a snowstorm? What the hell??

“Manny! Get us out of here!”

“Any suggestions? I’m blind here!”

“Shit!” She turns her head slightly to the side. “Kirsten, can you move?”

“Yes! I’m fine!”

“Come with me, then! Manny, stay close!”

“Like flies on horseshit, cuz!”

With determined steps, Dakota leads her small group forward, eyes straining to see through the lashing snow. It’s absolutely useless, and the only thing she can rely on are the instincts she’s honed through her life on this land.

When lightning again splits the sky, she uses that same instinct to pull Kirsten to the side and shield her with her own body a split second before the scraping, brittle branches of a giant tree crash down, dealing her a glancing blow on the shoulder.

“Jesus!” Kirsten shouts. “What was that?”

“Tree! Keep moving!”

“Tree?!? We’re in a whole forest of trees!! What if we wind up running into them?!?”

“We’ll all get bloody noses! Now move!”

Not moving isn’t really an option as Kirsten feels herself being pulled forward by the strength of Dakota’s inexorable grip. Her mind rebels against the less than gentle handling, but her body knows a good deal when it senses one, and moves her along complacently.

A chant to the Mother soft upon her lips, Dakota continues to use blind instinct to lead her party out of the dangerous woodland as lightning and thunder continue to do battle around them.

Then comes a flash of light and a loud coughing sound that is neither lightning nor thunder. “The mines.” Koda remarks, still moving them through the thick grove of trees with uncanny precision and not a little stealth.

“Hoo yah!” Manny yells from his place glued to her right side. “Die, you motherfuckers!”

A second, third, and fourth explosion follow in quick succession. With a soft cry, Kirsten falls to her knees, arms wrapped around her head as the feedback of the dying droids—sounding amazingly like human screams—sears through her implants, robbing the strength from her body and the thoughts from her mind.

Koda stops immediately and squats down on her haunches, barely able to see the other woman’s pain wracked face even from scant inches away. She grabs Kirsten’s shoulders tight in her hands and barely keeps herself from shaking the young woman like a rag doll. “What is it?!? What’s wrong?!?”

Kirsten’s mouth is frozen in a rictus of absolute agony, and Dakota divines the problem immediately. “Turn them off!” she all but screams. “Turn them off!!”

If Kirsten can hear her, she gives no sign. A keening moan continues uninterrupted from the very back of her throat as her body rocks in an instinctive attempt at self-comfort as old as time. Squinting through the hard-driving snow, Dakota unwraps Kirsten’s arms from around her head and, praying silently that she’s doing the right thing, feels for the tiny bumps behind each of the young scientist’s ears. With deft, gentle pressure, she presses inward. Relief flows through her in a tangible wave as Kirsten’s body begins to relax almost immediately, slumping weakly against her. Pulling off a glove with her teeth, Koda raises a warm palm to Kirsten’s chin, tilting the other woman’s gaze up to meet her own. Her mouth carefully forms one word. “Better?”

After a moment, Kirsten nods. “Much. Thank you.”

Koda can’t help the smile that spills out, and Kirsten responds with one of her own, all the more glorious for barely being seen, like the tantalizing flash of a deeply desired gift.

Another moment goes by, the sounds of exploding landmines slashing through the air around them. Releasing Kirsten’s chin almost reluctantly, Dakota slips her glove back on and looks carefully at Kirsten, asking a question in her eyes. Kirsten nods and, with a deep breath, Koda rises, pulling the other woman up with her and holding her until Kirsten is more or less steady on her feet.

Kirsten moves up to turn her implants back on, only to be stopped by Koda, who catches her hand and curls it firmly around her bicep. Understanding the silent message, Kirsten gives another nod and begins walking forward in step with her companion. Effectively blind, and now completely deaf, she has no choice but to trust the tall Lakota woman who has, for the second time this day, saved, if not her life, at least her sanity.

Trust is the one emotion she has never, truly, felt able to give anyone. But in the end, and with this woman, she relinquishes the fetters in her soul without a second’s hesitation. There is something very freeing in this simple, if profound, act, and in this giving, she finds herself changed in a way she could never have predicted.