The damper opens with a rusty squeal. “Paper first.” I grab newspaper from her disaster pile. "Crumpled, not folded."
She watches intently, and I notice she's actually taking notes on her phone. Documenting this for later reference, apparently.
"Kindling next. Crisscross pattern, leave gaps for airflow."
"Airflow," she repeats, typing rapidly.
"Fire needs oxygen. Too tight and you suffocate it."
"That's actually kind of poetic. In a primitive survival way."
Once the kindling catches, I add larger pieces, arranging them with practiced ease. The fire springs to life, orange light replacing blue glow, and the immediate sigh she releases does something uncomfortable to my chest.
"Oh my God, that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." She holds her hands toward the heat, and her whole body seems to uncurl from its defensive huddle. "I take back every mean thing I thought about you."
"You thought mean things about me?"
"You literally grunted at me and walked away yesterday. After saving me from Morris, sure, but still. The vibe was very 'tourist go home.'"
"Morris?"
"The moose. I named him Morris. He seemed like a Morris."
The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. "Town named him that years ago. He's been around forever."
"Wait, seriously?" Her eyes widen. "I accidentally guessed his actual name?"
"Morris doesn't hurt anyone. He's just nosy."
"That's..." She pauses, and I can practically see her reevaluating everything. "Actually kind of charming. In a 'this town has collectively adopted a moose' way."
I stand, brushing off my hands. "Keep the damper open when burning, closed when it's out. Add logs before you sleep or you'll wake up cold. Don't burn garbage, pine, or anything painted."
She's typing it all, bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. There's a smudge of soot on her cheek that my hand itches to wipe away.
"Any questions?"
She looks up from her phone, and the smile she gives me is different from yesterday's camera-ready version. Smaller. Real. "Just one. What's your name? I can't keep calling you Hockey Stick Hero in my head."
"Ryder."
"Piper." She extends a hand, realizes she's still wearing fingerless gloves, laughs at herself. "Sorry, I'm not usually this much of a disaster. Just, you know, recently."
Chief's words echo:Recently. Dramatically, apparently.
I don't take her hand, don't want to know if her skin's as soft as it looks. "You'll want to stock up on wood. Thompson's sells seasoned cords, delivers too."
"Right. Thompson's." She's typing again. "Seasoned cords. That's a thing I definitely understand and don't need to Google."
The corner of my mouth twitches, almost a smile before I catch it. "Don't freeze, Piper."
I'm at the door when she calls out.
"Hey, Ryder?"
I pause, hand on the doorknob.
"Thanks. For not letting me become a cautionary tale about city girls who think they can handle Alaska."
