Epilogue
Denali
A breeze blows through my kitchen, carrying the scent of wildflowers. They wave on the slope, thousands of them, multi-colored blooms that blossomed overnight, after the rains.
I stand barefoot at the counter, shifting my weight from side to side as I stir a batch of peanut butter cookies. The timer dings—the first batch is done. I set it out and give the dishcloth a little wave, sending the scent wafting out the screened door—a scent no man, or lion, can resist.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, two figures appear, striding back toward the house. Halfway down the slope, Nash stoops down and picks up our son. At four years old, Nolan’s gotten big, but his dad has broad shoulders. Broad enough to bear my mark. Broad enough to bear our son... and soon, our daughter.
I sm
