Mick had thought to keep the pace slow to favor Patty, but he needn’t have bothered. The hard work of slogging through the snow at altitude slowed him down plenty as well. He might have gone faster, but the PJs set up a slow but steady pace. Breaks were few, conversation light, but neither were they exhausting themselves.
Back at their landing site, they had to poke around to find where they’d stashed their parachutes. A high, thin cloud cover had moved in and flattened the light, the deep furrow of their out-bound path through the knee-deep snow was almost invisible on their return journey.
He gathered in loops of the rope until he and Patty were walking closely together and could speak slowly between deep breaths.
“Of course, I’m doing okay, Meathead,” which told him she really was do
