Marlowe
Bear paired us together for a border patrol run before either of us had a chance to argue our way out of it, and I understood, watching King's jaw tighten at the assignment sheet, that neither of us had actually planned on being alone together again this soon.
"You could reassign this," I said, once we were both saddled up and stuck with it anyway.
"Could." He didn't. "Bear's shorthanded. Not going to make it his problem that we're being idiots about something."
"We're not being idiots."
"We haven't spoken more than six words to each other in four days, Finch. I'd call that idiots."
I didn't have a good comeback for that, mostly because he was right, and we rode the patrol route in a silence that lasted almost the entire hour — right up until a downed tree across the trail fo
