Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(24)

She jumped as a hand waved politely in front of her face. Wystan had twisted round in front of her, as much as the limited space allowed. He gestured at her headphones. Reluctantly, she pulled them down around her neck.

“Apologies for disturbing you,” the paramedic said, smiling. “But we’re nearly there. You’ll need to hang on.”

True to his words, the truck lurched as Blaise turned up a narrow dirt track. She had to grab onto the back of Joe and Wystan’s seats as the vehicle clawed its way up a steep gradient. Pines rolled past the windows. She noticed that the undergrowth had been cut back, removing dangerous dry fuel. The occasional stump showed where dead trees had been felled.

“Does the crew maintain this forest?” she asked Wystan.

He nodded. “All this land belongs to the Thunder Mountain Hotshots. Our base is halfway up, but we spend a lot of time down here at the foot of the mountain. Hiking, training, and practicing clearing fuel.”

She squinted up the twisting road, but couldn’t see anything other than forest yet. “Why all the way down here?”

Joe heaved a put-upon sigh. “Because Rory likes making us suffer.”

“It’s good for you,” Rory said from the front. “If I had my way, you’d be hiking to the top of the mountain for practice.”

“Sadist.” Joe put his hand over his heart, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. “Thank you, eagles.”

“Eagles?” Edith asked.

“Bald eagle nesting area at the summit,” Blaise said from the driver’s seat. “We don’t go up there, to avoid disturbing the birds.”

Callum, who’d been silent and motionless for over three hours, abruptly leaned out the window. Edith tried to see what he was looking at, but all she could make out was a distant dot, keeping pace with the truck.

“Is that an eagle?” she asked him.

“No.” His intent focus never wavered. “Hawk.”

Something changed inside the truck, in a way Edith couldn’t quite put her finger on. As one, the hotshots stared at the sky. Even Fenrir’s nose tilted upward. His fur bristled under her palm, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“Easy, big guy,” she murmured, rubbing his neck. “Rory? What’s wrong?”

The squad boss didn’t answer for a moment, still watching the hawk. Then he shook himself a little, turning to offer her another of those easy smiles.

“Probably nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. Look, we’re here.”

The truck rolled through an open gate, past a weathered wooden sign proudly proclaiming THUNDER MOUNTAIN HOTSHOTS. Edith’s puzzlement over the squad’s odd behavior drowned in a flood of anxiety. She swallowed hard, hands fluttering against her knees.

Fenrir’s ear swiveled. His weight pressed against her, warm and reassuring. All will be well, the dog seemed to be saying.

The road opened out into a broad area rutted with tire tracks. Three rustic log buildings stood in a wide clearing, one large, two smaller. A number of tiny cabins were scattered haphazardly behind them, closer to the tree line.

“Mess hall and kitchen,” Rory said, pointing out the biggest building. “Fortunately the chief hires in a cook, otherwise you’d be periodically subjected to Joe’s unique interpretation of breakfast.”

Joe folded his arms. “Everything is better with chili, bro.”

“Not porridge,” Blaise informed him.

Rory swung his finger further down the line of buildings. “Superintendent’s office and the gym are over there. You’ll spend a lot of time in the latter, and hopefully none in the former. The two-story one is tool storage—that’s where all the gear is kept. Crew quarters in the little cabins behind. They’re basic, I’m afraid, but no worse than your lookout tower. And I guarantee they’ll seem positively luxurious after you’ve experienced the joys of fire camp.”

Blaise parked the crew truck at the end of a line of identical vehicles. Half a dozen men were lounging on picnic tables outside the mess hall, drinking sodas. Nearby, another group were playing some approximation of basketball. A large, shirtless man barged into another, knocking him to the ground as he snatched the ball. Noticing their arrival, he held up a hand, pausing the game.

“Oh look,” he said as Rory opened the side door. “A-hole squad is back.”

“We missed you too, Seth,” Rory said, jumping down. “Did it take you all week to think of that nickname?”

Seth’s mouth twisted. Without warning, he hurled the ball at Rory’s head. Rory caught it easily, spinning it on his finger before whipping it back at twice the speed. Seth staggered as it hit his chest.

“Hope you can catch fires better than that,” Rory said, as sniggers rose from the watching crowd. He hauled open the side door of the truck. “Now try to remember some manners. Got someone for you all to meet.”

Edith shrank back as the rest of the crew piled out. She jumped as Fenrir’s cold wet nose poked the side of her neck.

Courage, Stone Bitch.

Edith blinked. While she was still working out where that thought had come from, a shadow fell across her. She looked up at Rory’s broad-shouldered form, silhouetted against the brightness outside. Sunlight caught in his amber hair like a halo.

“It’s all right, Edith,” he said, his voice pitched low and gentle. “Seth is a bag of dicks, but the rest of the guys are solid. Come meet them.”