I raise an eyebrow. “Test exams? That’s the first thing I’ve heard about that.”
She laughs, and the sound does something to my chest that I’ve never felt before.
“Anyway, enough about me,” she says, oblivious to what she just did to me. “What about you? Why aren’t you a ranger already? You know more about these mountains than most people who’ve lived here their whole lives.”
I lean back against the metal shelving, feeling the cold seep through my shirt. “Being a guide is good work. Honest work. But…” I trail off, unsure how to explain it without sounding ungrateful for what I have.
“But?”
“When I first started guiding, I thought it would be temporary. Something to pay the bills while I figured out my next move.” I run a hand through my hair. “That was eight years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I love taking people up the mountain and showing them places they’ve never seen before. But lately, I’ve been wanting more.”
“More?”
“When I take groups hiking, I see the damage. Illegal campsites, trash left behind, people feeding wildlife even after I tell them not to. I watch developers eyeing parcels near the park boundaries, and I know what that means for migration patterns. A few weeks ago, I found a bear cub with a plastic container stuck on its head. It got me thinking. As a guide, I can educate maybe a dozen people at a time about Leave No Trace principles. As a ranger, I couldenforcethem. I could also work on habitat restoration and wildlife management.”
She taps her finger to her chin. “So you want to go from telling people not to litter to arresting them for it.”
“Don’t tempt me. I can’t arrest them, but I’ve been fantasizing about the look on certain people’s faces when I can write them citations.”
“So what’s the problem? You’re already studying for your ranger exam. If you pass, you get to hand out fines left and right.”
I shrug. “My dad thinks I’m crazy. He says I have a good thing going and doesn’t understand why I would mess with that. Truth is, I’ve been playing it safe for far too long.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to stop waiting for the perfect moment to chase what you want. Just go for it, Sawyer. You’re already halfway there. You’ve taken the first step by deciding to take the ranger exam. You're the kind of guy who knows what he wants and goes for it. That’s something your dad should be proud about.”
I grin. “What I desperately want right now is to be warm. Are you sure you can’t share that rug with me?”
“You know, technically, you’re still my student. Isn’t there some kind of rule against sharing buffalo hide rugs with students?”
I frown at her. “I think that only applies in classrooms. Storage rooms are a gray area.”
She hesitates, but I think I’ve finally convinced her to share the rug with me, because her shoulders slump.
“Okay, but I have conditions. No hogging the fur, no complaining about my cold feet, and if you snore, you’re back on the floor,” she says.
“Deal,” I eagerly answer, elated about my victory. “Wait, do you have cold feet?”
“Freezing. I think I’ve lost feeling in three toes.”
“I could warm them up for you.”
She holds her hand up. “Absolutely not. That’s where I draw the line. No touching my feet, Sawyer. No way.”
“Come on, it’s just practical. Body heat is the most efficient—”
“Nope.” She shakes her head firmly. “My feet stay on my side of the buffalo hide.”
“I didn’t know there were sides to this thing.”
“There are now. Your side, my side, and a very clear boundary between them. Got it?”
“Got it,” I tell her.
She scoots over reluctantly, dragging part of the hide with her and wrapping it around her shoulders like a cape.
“This is cozy,” I say, settling in beside her with probably too much satisfaction.
“Don’t get used to it.” She tucks her legs up under her, careful to keep them away from my side. “This is a one-time emergency situation.”