No. But she didn’t voice the response. She was the one who’d insisted on checking on George. And she was the one who’d taken an incautious step. They needed to keep going.

Still, she was frozen with fear, which wasn’t like her. She hiked trails like this all the time. But never in this weather and never in the wrong boots.

The sound of her heartbeat and ragged breathing drowned out all other sounds. She had to get her shit together.

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over her pounding heart.

She didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but she was rattled enough to accept his comfort and tucked her head against his chest. The various objects stored in the pockets of his vest poked at her as she took a deep breath. She could do this. She had to.

She leaned away, and the arms that held her loosened. “Let’s go,” she said.

He smiled, and the warmth in his eyes triggered a flutter. Or maybe a memory. She wasn’t sure, but his smile somehow made her feel good. Like north was still north and he somehow wasn’t the man who’d set fire to her career.

Temporary insanity triggered by fear.

He turned and faced the steep path ahead. “I’ll go slower.”

“Thank you.”

Fortunately, the narrowest part of the trail only lasted until the next switchback, where the natural grade became less sheer cliff face and more sloped hillside.

They reached the turn, and she let out a deep sigh of relief. The worst was over. Now the lake was on her right side and the trail widened out. Two more legs and they’d reach the top of the cliff.

Thanks to the wider, gentler path, they quickly reached the next turn, which was a large open flat—a great spot for picnicking in the summertime with a spectacular view of the lake. They’d reached the final, widest stretch of trail, which would take them to the top of the cliff and back into the forest.

Once upon a time, there’d been railings along the edge of the flat, but barriers, the park service had learned, only made park guests more fearless. Foolish. Tourists would ignore the warning signs and climb over the fence, taking chances they wouldn’t if there wasn’t a rail to hold on to.

The railings were gone, but the signs remained, warning hikers of the fifty-foot drop. Darkness was descending rapidly, and the signs were two-legged silhouettes. Alien looking in the natural landscape.