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together.
    "Looks like you were wrong about the helicopter."
    She stared at him, speechless, if only for a second before indignation kicked in. "So I was wrong. Why are you listening to me anyway? This is my first experience with… I don't even know what this is."
    He slung the rifle over his shoulder by its strap. "Don't go near the window."
    "I'm not stupid." But she was afraid, and she didn't like it. 'The roof is made of logs at least twelve inches thick. Bullets aren't getting through."
    Right on cue, something thumped on the roof. She didn't know how she managed to hear it around the distinctive whump-whump-whump of helicopter blades, Jackass whinnying and banging in his stable, and the roar of the fireplace from the constant change in air pressure outside, but she did. So did Tag. Both sets of eyes swiveled up then down to collide again, both brains coming to the same conclusion. They weren't shooting.
    Tag voiced his suspicion first. "What about fire?"
    "There's a foot of wet snow on top of the roof," Alex said.
    Tag moved to the door, eased it open, and pointed his pistol up in the air, taking a couple of wild shots at the helicopter.
    Alex heard the bullets ping off metal, then a couple more thuds, a muffled whoosh, and the sound of the helicopter beginning to fade.
    Tag stepped all the way outside and took a cautious look around the corner of the cabin. "I think it's gone," he said, coming back inside, "but we have another problem. There was a pile of hay on this side of the cabin."
    "Was?"
    Right on cue smoke began to curl between the chinks in the logs.
    "I wish I could create my own reality now," Tag said.
    "You can't, so I guess you'll have to come with me." Alex headed for the door. "According to you I'm good at running away."
    Tag gave her a look. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
    "We aren't going to know each other long enough for never."
    "Maybe we could put out the fire before we part company," Tag deadpanned.
    She shook her head and walked to the door, listening for a second. No whump-whump, so she crooked her finger for Tag to follow her outside. They stood shoulder to shoulder a couple of seconds, watching the conflagration race up the haystack. Before a full minute had passed, the entire wall was ablaze and the flames were starting on the roof. The snowmelt dripping off the eaves did nothing but create steam to add to the smoke curling into the sky.
    "This cabin is about a hundred and fifty years old," Alex said.
    "That explains the lack of plumbing."
    "Exactly. What are you going to put the fire out with? Snow? Or maybe you think we can open bottles of water fast enough to soak wood that's been drying out for a cenand a half and was just hit with a gas bomb?"
    He caught her around the waist and shoved her toward the cabin's front door. "You better get whatever you want out of there while you still can."
    Alex dashed inside and grabbed her emergency pack— flashlight, flares, first aid kit—and the satchel that held her important papers. Tag was right behind her, but he wasn't doing anything useful. "I'd suggest you get the blankets off the bed," she said to him on her way out the door. "You're going to need them."
    By the time she came around front with Jackass half saddled and dragging the supply sled, Tag was coming out of the cabin, one blanket over his head and another wadded up in his arms. "Supplies," he said, opening the blanket to show her about a dozen bottles of water and a case of power bars.
    She took six bottles and shoved three into each of the saddlebags, then put some power bars in her pockets.
    "What about the rest of it?" Tag wanted to know.
    "This isn't Donner Pass," Alex said. "Trust me, I know how to pack for a trip. I've had all that experience, remember?"
    "I take it back," Tag said. "I've only been with you for a few hours and it already feels like forever."
    Alex opened her mouth, but the sound of the helicopter stuffed the witticism back down her throat.