The day passed slowly, much as it had with Bree, but the problem with Adam was that he wanted to check Court’s wound every couple hours or so, and kept asking if it hurt. “I’m fine,” Court assured him, once or twice, but after noon when the sun began to dip in the sky, he snapped, “Just stop asking me already, will you? Jeez. There’s nothing you can do about it, anyway.”
Adam pouted sullenly as he built up their fire. When he spoke again, it was on a different vein. “I wonder what’s taking them so long.”
“Maybe there’s a long line at the register,” Court joked.
Adam started to sit down on the log he’d pulled a little closer to the fire but froze halfway down, one hand on the log, knees bent, butt in the air. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
“Hear what?” Court asked.
Then he heard it
