With that accomplished, his thoughts returned to their final words before Mick had left. The words—andthe look that had passed between them. It had been brief, he knew, and maybe he was reading too much intoit. And maybe, if the fates decreed, he wasn’t.
He pushed that thought away. Now was not the time to contemplate a future that could never happen. To keep his mind busy, he took out a sketch pad and his pencils and set to work on an idea he’d had as he and Mick had hiked up to the cabin. After a time he stopped, realizing he was hungry. As he heated some canned ravioli, he listened to the silence. Soon he picked up the small sounds from outside the cabin—the hoot of an owl, the rustling of the trees as a breeze stirred them, the panicked squeak of a mouse. The owl found it. It won’t be going hungry this evening.