She didn't turn. She knew the voice. Kit Mercer's footsteps were heavy on the wet wood — less tentative than they used to be, but still carrying that same careful weight, as if he was always apologizing for taking up space.
She didn't answer. Instead, she stood and walked to the window. Through the glass, she could see the Slide's final plunge — a dark curve disappearing into the lake's black mirror.
"I'm still scared," she said.
Aila took a sip. The liquid burned a path through her silence.
The Slide stretched downward, slick with rain, its wooden planks warped but intact. Aila knelt and touched the surface. The grain was smooth from decades of summer bodies and winter neglect.
"Go."
She didn't turn. She knew the voice. Kit Mercer's footsteps were heavy on the wet wood — less tentative than they used to be, but still carrying that same careful weight, as if he was always apologizing for taking up space.
She didn't answer. Instead, she stood and walked to the window. Through the glass, she could see the Slide's final plunge — a dark curve disappearing into the lake's black mirror.
"I'm still scared," she said.
Aila took a sip. The liquid burned a path through her silence.
The Slide stretched downward, slick with rain, its wooden planks warped but intact. Aila knelt and touched the surface. The grain was smooth from decades of summer bodies and winter neglect.
"Go."
