quirky answer warmed her frostbitten feet that just happened to be sporting quirky reindeer-patterned toe socks under all the other layers of socks. "A moose? How so? I'm having trouble picturing it."
"With candles on each antler."
"Ah. Okay, now I can envision it." Why had they never taken the time for this before when she could have fully enjoyed it, when she wasn't a frozen ice sculpture? Drawing her knees up to her chest, she tucked her face down, arms inside. The bough held. "Sounds like something a boy would enjoy. What else?"
"I had a dreidel to play with, but, man, did I ever want to play with Nonni's old one up on the mantel.
Mother said no, but Nonni said I could if I helped her make potato latkes."
"You in an apron? Now, there's an image."
"Hey—" his deep bass growled from the other side of the pine "—I make a mighty damned good potato latke."
"I'll trade you some for my grandma's fruitcake recipe." She tried for lighthearted, except she knew better. They would never swap squat again, and the knowledge wedged itself in her throat like dried-out leftovers. "It's about time to climb down, isn't it?"
"Soon," he agreed, his voice sobering. "We need to make tracks the minute daylight breaks. We have to put space between us and whoever sicced these Cujo spawn on us. If we stay in the woods, covering our tracks should be easier. Of course, that also makes it tough as hell for anyone to rescue us."
"Well, don't those options all suck."
"Pretty much. Someone will have stayed at the pickup point. We'll just keep trying to make our way there."
"How far off do you think we ran?"
He stayed silent. Not good.
All right, then. One problem at a time. She pointed down at Fluffy still sharpening his fangs on their radio.
"Do you have any ideas on how to make the big guy there abandon his favorite new chew toy?"
"I've been praying for another killer icicle for the past hour. Doesn't seem to be working."
Her low laugh spiraled out into the horizon glowing orange and purple with a cresting sun. Not how she'd planned to spend the dark hours with him, and oddly somehow as intimate as sleeping in his arms.
And now their last night together had ended. "Any ideas on how to get them to scatter?"
"I've been thinking about it. We could use the gyro-jet flare gun on them, but that could also signal whoever set them loose in the first place."
"Flare gun, last resort."
"Yeah, which takes me to plan B. How about break off one of those branches to your left. The less snow and more pine needles the better."
She heard him rustling on his branch. Clumps of snow thudded, rousing Fluffy and Cujo to glare up with ice-blue eyes. "Uh, okay, but do you mind if I ask what you have planned?"
"Flaming branches."
"Should work and won't be nearly as visible as launching a flare. But how do you plan to kindle a spark up here in the tree? And without burning us out?"
His arm extended with a Bic lighter in his fist.
Shock stunned her silent. But only for a second. "You had this all the time even though we're in an official training course?"
"Duh. What are you? New?"
So he was back to being an ass, sensitivity long gone, probably only generated to keep her occupied, anyway. "You snuck a lighter into survival school? Omigod. I can't believe you did that. What other contraband have you stuffed in your pockets?"
"Hey, back off. I checked the rules and nowhere did it say I couldn't bring one."
"Well the rules don't say I can't have a pup tent, but you don't see me shoving one up my parka."
"Somebody's mighty cranky without her morning coffee."
At least he wasn't talking about her underwear anymore. "Damn it, Rose-Bud—"
"Do you want out of this tree or not?"
"Light the damned branch." Lack of coffee? More like frustration from hanging out with the tender, funny Josh all night until even smart-ass Josh couldn't erase the warm glow swelling inside her.
"Yes, ma'am."
Rustling sounded behind her, followed by the flick, flick, flick as