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Natalie was in love. She liked the smell of the place, the look of the place, the way the bright sunlight filtered through the stained-glass partitions that made up the top of the shop's windows.

The door opened again and a tiny set of brass jingle bells rattled cheerily behind her. The writer grinned and rubbed her hands together excitedly. The bookstore was tucked in among the trendy spots in the town's quaint shopping district.

"Tootie, I want you to be the first to know. I have died and gone to heaven!" she remarked in her usual exuberant manner.

Her roommate leaned across an antique library table that displayed books by local authors. "Yeah, I kind of got that feeling from you," she smirked good-naturedly.

"You did?"

"It was pretty obvious, seeing as you've squealed at least twice and I've distinctly heard three 'ooooohs!' since we got here," she quipped. The Eastland senior gathered her selections up and went in search of the clerk to ring out.

Natalie pouted in the direction of her friend's departure. "That is so not true," she grumbled as she settled another book across her knee. "I've only 'oooohed' once!"

She ran a thumb along the spine of the selection, her eyes dancing with delight at her find. The book was "Lyrics" by Bob Dylan and it contained the words to the musician's songs plus his own illustrations.

Wow, she thought reverently. Twenty-three years worth of songs. Really, it seemed to her, Dylan's words played much better as poems than they did songs.

She flipped through the pages, noticing verses she knew and some she only suspected. A little giggle emerged from the reporter as she recalled a time when she played one of the musician's albums over and over again.

At least Tootie was supportive of my beatnik semester, she smiled. Blair, on the other hand, suggested that I start a coffee house. In another zip code.

The redhead shook her head at the memory from her junior year at Eastland.

And Jo? Well, Jo had said that an album like that was a rare find and should be put away and protected lest some terrible accident break it into little, tiny pieces.

"What 'cha got, Nat?" asked Tootie. Her question jarred her friend out of her recollection.

"Look, 'Lyrics,'" she answered proudly. Natalie shuffled the volumes in her hands. "And... 'The Vampire Lestat.'"

The younger girl made a face. "I'm not sure which one of those scares me worse!" she quipped.

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. I have no intention of singing my way through the Dylan collection," she reported as she glanced at her watch.

The writer's eyes got large as she looked at the timepiece. Maybe it stopped? "Uh, Tootie, what time is it?" she asked cautiously.

Her friend folded her arms. "It's nearly two in the afternoon."

Natalie swallowed nervously. "That would mean that we've been here for ...?"

"An hour and a half. Give or take a little," smiled the senior.

"No way! That's impossible! I didn't... I mean, I couldn't have ... " Natalie sputtered. She sighed. "I did, didn't I? Lost all track of time. Left you bored and abandoned in a musty bookstore. What a rotten thing for me to do! Sure, it's like the neatest place I've been in ..."

"Natalie?"

"... oh, probably three or four years, but this is your vacation, too." She smacked her forehead lightly with the palm of her hand. "Here I am hogging all your time by keeping you stuck ... "

"Nat, would you please..."

"... and look at that! We missed lunch! Well, that settles it. Come on, let's get a bite to eat. My treat. I can't believe you didn't just drag me out ..."

"Natalie, would you just shut up a minute!" interrupted Tootie. Her friend blinked and then closed her mouth.

Tootie dangled a brown sack in front of her talkative friend, letting it sway back and forth. "I wasn't bored. I bought books," she grinned.

The girl's dark eyes twinkled as she finished the rest of her story. "The guy that sold me the books, Quentin, is going to take me to dinner tonight. So, I repeat: I was not bored."

Natalie cocked her head. Well, now that's interesting, she thought. "You bought books?"

**********

"Hmmm? Wha...?" Jo stirred and looked up. Her green eyes had a groggy cast to them. Blair was sifting through the parka she had wrapped about her roommate.

"Need to dig in a pocket for a second..." she responded as she fumbled with her blue jacket. The socialite frowned as her Jo seemed to be drifting off again. She settled into the snow and looked for the small compartment that was hidden behind a Velcro closure.

Blair's cold fingers felt their way along the lining. "Hey, you're supposed to be watching for bears," she remarked with a gentle nudge to rouse her friend.

"Aye, aye Goldilocks," said Jo with a weak smile.

Yes! thought Blair as she located the pocket and ripped it open. She withdrew the square parcel that Tootie had found by accident that morning. Jo raised her head to see what was going on and grunted when her ribs protested.

In frustration, she returned to her original position. "Got a cup of coffee in there?" Jo quipped as she caught her breath. "God, could I use a piping hot cup of coffee!"

The blonde smiled and nodded in agreement. "Right now, I'd even settle for one of yours." She turned the soap-sized parcel over in her hand.

Jo raised her head. "I make... great coffee," she grunted. Blair adjusted the parka and bundled her roommate up again.

"No, you make great sludge," she countered impishly.

*********
Even though she had on gloves, the metal rings had begun to chafe her fingers. Blair gritted her teeth and pulled the wire hard to the right one more time. Finally, the strands sliced through the branch and she watched it fall away from the evergreen.

She flexed her thumbs, hoping that the feeling would return soon, and carefully wound up the wire saw. The thin metal loops weren't much thicker than fishing line but they were surprisingly strong and covered with sharp teeth.

Her grandfather had packed the emergency kit for her during her teens. Though the headstrong Warner never once considered that she would actually have to use any of its contents -- she had transferred it faithfully from jacket to jacket through the years.

It was a tradition. She didn't ski without it.

Blair reached down and grabbed the heavy branch, adding it to the others she had cut. After arranging them to move all at one time, she began dragging the lush evergreen cuttings to the snowfield.

Technically, I didn't lie this morning, she thought to herself as she navigated the deepening snow that lay beyond the trees. She stumbled and nearly toppled over after sinking in to her knee.

She took a moment to rest and conserve her energy. Blair looked back up the hillside to where her roommate waited.

There really is a mirror and lip gloss in there, she smirked. Well, lip balm, anyway. She lifted the first of the boughs and put it in place on the mountainside. Then, one after the other, she arranged them into a pattern.

Amid all the yards of pure white there was now a deep green cross.

The blonde coed nodded and then turned her face up, searching the skies. Okay, somebody. Anybody. Come and get us.

**********
The young men climbed the snow covered steps and headed in to the building. The Aslan Mountain Rescue and Public Safety Offices were housed together. Plows, maintenance equipment and supplies were stored in a cavernous garage right next to the sleek snowmobiles used by the ski patrol.

As was the case with most of the mountain village, the office itself had a rustic flair. The door from the street led to a short hallway with doors to either side. Turn left and you found yourself at the Public Safety division. Veer to the right and just past the secondary door lay the volunteers and support staff of the mountain's ski patrol and emergency rescue teams.

The wiry Scandinavian burst through the door rushing ahead of his friend. Prichard leaned across the wooden counter and looked into the office.

"Hello-o-o?" he called as he thumped the countertop with his hands. His American friend frowned and paced the length of the barricade.

A radio squawked noisily in the corner of the front office, leaving Tucker to believe that someone had to be nearby. In truth, someone was always on duty because the weather had a way of turning from mild to frightening in a matter of minutes.

Take hundreds of tourists from all over the world, turn them loose on a mountain with dozens of hotels, shops, bars and slopes and you've got plenty of people to safeguard. Now, factor in the mountains and the harsh conditions and you've got a round the clock set of every changing challenges.

The two fellows stared at one another in disbelief when the sound of water flushing sounded loudly near the rear of the facility. Prichard sputtered out a laugh as the hinges of a bathroom door squeaked.

"Mystery solved," quipped Tucker as his Swiss friend shook his head.

Within moments, a young man appeared at the counter. "Something I can help you with?" he inquired politely.

The fellow in the toboggan nodded. "Actually, yeah. You're going to need to get a repair team up to the entrance of the Viper..."

"Sir, that run is closed," interrupted the teenager. "No skiing allowed on that slope."

Tucker took a breath and leveled his gray green eyes at the boy. "I know that. However, some moron buried the warning markers," he intoned carefully.

Prichard sensed that his buddy was very close to losing his cool and so he leaped into the discussion. "We dug out one of the signs by hand but all the other cautions are gone. Also, the chain across the top of the run is missing. Right now, it looks skiable," he explained.

"What exactly do you mean, skiable, sir?" hedged the young man.

What kind of stupid question was that? Tucker's patience was wearing out. Fast.

"Like an open run. Like one that's maintained and used," growled the man in the toboggan.

"Like one that you guys need to get up there and block off. You do know what 'block off' means, don't you? As in barricade, fasten up, obstruct? As in keep people from getting hurt?"

"Yes, sir. I understand. We'll get right on that," replied the fellow with public safety. "You said it was the Viper, right? Okay, let's just get a few details down and I'll send a crew straight-away," he said as he reached beneath the counter and retrieved a sheet of paper.

The skiers dutifully went back over the information with the officer and reported their names and addresses. They left the facility with the young man's promise to speed things along to correct the situation.

Once they had gone, the DPS officer sank into a chair and stared at the report. All he had to do was deposit the report in Livingston's in-box and notify one of the active crews. The team could be on site within thirty-minutes and the Viper would be locked down.

And I'll be out of a job, he thought.

The teenager looked at the clock and then checked the weather report. A storm was rolling in. Won't be much more skiing today, he decided. What if I wait and do the repairs myself in the morning... ?

He ran the scenarios though his mind. Those guys said they'd uncovered one of the markers. That's probably enough.

Yeah. That's plenty.

I'll dig everything out on the AM run, he smiled as he stood up. With that decision, Chad Pinkus slid the report under the desk calendar and loped off to the snack machine.