Stony River Read Online Free PDF Page A

as she’d gotten her hair thoroughly wet, the water turned suddenly and bitingly cold.
    With a startled yelp she dodged out of the spray. Further attempts to adjust the nozzle convinced her there was no more warm water to be had. Shivering, she wrapped the towel around her, scooped her clothes into a makeshift bundle, and hurried across the yard for the warmth of the house. But when she grasped the doorknob expectantly, it wouldn’t turn. Vigorously she rattled it both ways. With a sinking feeling, she realized it had locked behind her.
    She stepped back to assess the situation, wet hair dripping icily down her back in the evening breezes. Under no circumstances would she disturb Fenn. She would try the back door, then the windows. If all else failed, she would sleep in the loft at the barn. But before she could initiate any of these fairly reasonable plans, a piercing howl split the air, loud and very close—and with no other thought in her head, she began frantically pounding on the door with her fist.
    A minute or two later Fenn jerked open the door, wearing only a pair of longjohns and a dangerous look in his eye. “A w-wolf!” Sevana chattered as she squeezed past his bare-chested form. “Fenn, there’s a wolf out there!”
    “It’s a coyote,” he corrected, narrowly appraising her toweled figure. “What’d you do—fall in the creek?”
    “I t-took a shower.” She clutched the towel to her more tightly, quaking violently. One of her lightweight street shoes escaped her armload and clattered to the floor, barely missing his toe.
    Fenn retrieved it with a disgusted look and put it back on top of her bundle. “You’d better wait for the sun to heat the hose during the day—unless you enjoy freezing to death,” he advised her critically. “And if you have a towel, I’d rather you didn’t use mine.”
    She held onto the towel protectively, as if he might demand it back that very minute. “I brought one. It’s just that I was in a hurry—before it got dark.”
    He wasn’t interested in her excuses. “Look here, Sevana.” He directed her attention to the doorknob in the dim light. “If the door is locked when you go out, it will stay locked.”
    She wanted to pretend she knew what he meant, but was afraid it would come back to haunt her, as her mechanical leanings were not well-established. “I don’t understand.”
    He looked exasperated. “Just opening the door doesn’t release the lock. You have to turn it out manually—like this.”
    She nodded her wet head meekly. “I’ll remember.”
    “Now, are you through roaming around down here?” he demanded. “Because if you don’t mind, I’d like to get a little more sleep before four o’clock rolls around.” He stomped upstairs and his door slammed shut.
    When the bear had gone back to its den, Sevana found her own way up the staircase and lit the candle in her room. By its faulty illumination she dug through the trunk for her nightclothes, and made up the bed with her sleeping bag and pillow, setting aside the wool blanket for a future chilly night. Next she located her hair dryer, only then realizing the uselessness of the cord dangling from it.
    Why couldn’t she grasp this situation? she asked herself impatiently. She would have to sleep with wet hair. But at least she wasn’t cold anymore. The attic room had been heated by the woodstove below, and the sun all day on the roof above, until the air was very warm—stuffy, even—the odors of woodsmoke and musty wool and old timbers hanging close in the stale air.
    She pushed open the window, and the sound of the river came into the room, constant in the air like a soft night wind. A few stars were beginning to shine in the subdued blue swath above the shadowy treeline. High up in the avalanche chutes, dots of last winter’s snow stood out bright in the dusk. She crawled into the canvas bag and closed her eyes, so that undiminutive wall couldn’t remind her she was encompassed by such