“I believe this is the point in the story where the reckless character learns humility,” Merie stated as she finally joined us.
“That feels unnecessary,” Lydia replied.
I repositioned everyone and simplified the exercise, keeping the slope short and the instructions clear. I allowed Jane to practice on her own as she had mastered the basics. Lucy and Meri, I teamed up together so they could work on their skills. I gave Lydia tips on stopping and controlling her descent down the slope. Kitty followed every word, concentrating so hard I could practically see the effort settling into her shoulders. She moved slowly, cautiously, but she moved.
Each time she fell, she got back up without complaint.
Each time Lydia fell, she laughed louder.
Kitty tried again, and this time she stayed upright long enough to reach the bottom of the slope. She stopped awkwardly, arms flailing slightly before she caught her balance.
She looked up, searching my face.
“That was good,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “It was?”
“Yes. You didn’t fall.”
She smiled, small and tentative, and I returned it with a smile of my own.
The chaos peaked shortly after as we went back to the top of the hill.
Lydia told us she was ready to go to the big hill as Meri, Kitty, and Jane started their descent.
“I am not ready for you to have a real run,” Lucy grumbled.
“You lack control,” I told her. “Until you can stop and change speed on command, you aren’t ready.”
“Confidence isn’t competence,” Lucy murmured.
“You’re just upset because I’m a natural and you’re still struggling.” Lydia pushed forward, gathering momentum faster than before. Kitty, still basking in her small success of moving down the hill without falling, didn’t move out of the way in time.
“Kitty,” I shouted.
She turned, startled, and lost her balance immediately, sliding sideways just as Lydia barreled toward her.
This time, I moved first.
I cut across the slope, catching Lydia just enough to redirect her momentum, which sent all three of us tumbling into the snow in a graceless pile.
For a second, there was nothing but laughter and cold and the dull thump of adrenaline.
“I’m so sorry,” Kitty said breathlessly, already trying to sit up.
“Worth it,” Lydia declared. “Absolutely worth it.”
Lucy stared down at us. “I would like to formally apologize to the mountain.”
Jane laughed so hard she had to stop and brace herself.
I pushed myself upright and helped Kitty to her feet, steadying her a moment longer than strictly necessary. She looked flustered but unhurt, her cheeks flushed, her hair escaping its helmet slightly.
“I’m really terrible at this,” she said softly.
“You’re not,” I said again, because repetition mattered. “You’re doing the hardest part. You keep trying.”
She hesitated. “That doesn’t usually count for much.”
