Chapter Sixty Six
“Well what do you think?” Irene was looking up into the branches of a stunted willow that appeared to be fighting valiantly for survival by the river’s edge.
Alex wasn’t hopeful. “Looks soft and spongy. Cut me a branch and let me test it.”
This high in the mountains, hardwood trees weren’t that common, the slopes blanketed instead with pine-trees; a softwood unsuitable for Alex’s longbow. Irene swung a broken blade, scoured from one of the DC-9’s turbofans, like a machete, hacking off a willow branch and passing it down. Alex stuck the end into the soft earth and applied her weight. The branch bent easily. Too easily.
Alex shook her head. “It’s got no spring to it. Soft as cooked linguine and couldn’t propel an arrow with enough force to do any damage.” Disgusted, she
