It’s going to take a while to get used to snowshoes again,” Christine said as she recovered from almost tripping. “We only had one afternoon of ...sing them when we were in our teens.”“You’ll get used to the rhythm after you do a few miles in them each day,” Jasmine assured her.“Miles?” Christine worried.“She’s screwing with you,” Morales returned with a chuckle. “That’s only if we go hunting on the plains.”Christine, as with Ashley, was all too aware of the rifle slung over her shoulder. And. It was small and square, and entirely unremarkable. It had his name written on it in what looked like pencil, a bit of which came off on his thumb as he unconsciously pulled the envelope towards his chest. A flood of memories nearly overwhelmed him. Snap shots of earlier, happier days spent with his dad fishing and riding bikes by the beach. The sound of his voice resonating in his head as he called his name when he got too far ahead. With these thoughts dancing through his head he gently tore. More

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