Off the Ice
By midday, the sun had climbed high enough to begin warming the heavy cedar logs of the cabin, causing small, diamond-bright icicles along the eaves to melt into a steady, rhythmic drip-drop rhythm against the snow below.
They sat on the edge of the front porch, their legs dangling over the cleared steps, sharing a simple lunch of dried meat, sharp cheese, and a thermos of hot black coffee. The silence of the ridge was absolute, broken only by the distant, echoing crack of settling snowpack somewhere high up on the granite cliffs.
"Do you ever think about the records?" Liam asked softly, breaking a long stretch of companionable quiet. He held the tin cup between both hands, watching the fain