“Oh, he’s the scariest thing in these mountains by far.” Jessie’s quip was met by laughter throughout the crew. From across the campsite, Ben had stopped working to watch their filming. He shot Easton a smirk.

“You all have never gone through the Veil,” Ben told them. “You’ll think East is all peaches and cream when that happens.”

They turned the cameras off, although Jessie still had the handheld tucked under his arm instead of putting it away.

“So, what do you think?” River rose to her feet and joined Easton where he was standing.

“I think we need to take it easy, maybe stay here an extra day. You’re not the only one having trouble catching your breath. Jessie was looking winded too.”

When she didn’t argue with him, Easton gave her a searching once-over.

“I’m pretty sure my eyes are up here.” Despite the humor in her tone, Easton could hear an underlying grumpiness.

“Your eyes are gorgeous,” Easton told her, willing to flirt a little to see the resulting smile on her face. When she swayed on her feet, he put a hand on her hip. “The rest of you is starting to drag. Why don’t you take a nap while the others finish setting up camp? I’ll have Ben wake you when dinner is ready.”

“Is it that obvious I’m beat?”

“Only because I pay attention.” When she waggled her eyebrows at him, Easton added, “You pay me to pay attention.”

“And here I thought I paid you to be a large human-shaped resting spot.” She leaned into his shoulder, giving Easton an excuse to wrap his arm around her waist. River turned to gaze out at the mountain range rising like jagged teeth from the earth thousands of feet below. “I can’t get over how gorgeous it is up here. If this view doesn’t convince people to come to Moose Springs, nothing will.”

Easton was fine with no one else ever coming to Moose Springs, but he was invested enough in his clients to want River’s documentary to turn out well. Sometimes Easton felt torn in what they were doing here. He’d always fallen hard on the side of “no tourists,” but Moose Springs was changing, slowly but surely. Lana and Graham had worked hard to try to balance the fiscal needs of the town versus the needs of the people to be left in peace.

Lana single-handedly getting the bulk of the town’s commercial property out of corporate hands and into the hands of the residents had done a lot to smooth ruffled feathers. But even though Lana had become much more accepted in Moose Springs, no one loved her condo project next to the resort. If Graham managed to keep them from being completed, tying Lana up in red tape for the next century, no one would protest. Except for maybe Rick.

And yes, he didn’t want strangers overrunning his town. But tourism had brought Zoey and Lana into his friends’ lives. Glancing over, Easton watched River drink in the mountain that was so important to him, relishing the weight of her form pressed against his side.

See? Tourism wasn’t that bad.

The marmot chirped, an unhappy sound, then wiggled between their legs so it could lean against Easton too.

He could have stood there with her for as long as she wanted, enjoying her while she enjoyed the view. The marmot…he could have gone without it snuggling in closer. But Easton knew the safe hours for traveling were ticking down while he lingered. Finally, he stepped away. “I’m going to scout ahead. Let Ben know if you need anything.” She didn’t answer, not until he murmured her name. “River?”

“Hmm?”

“You sure you’re okay?”

Maybe it was just him, but her color was a touch off, too pale for the blustering wind chilling their skin. Her eyes were still on the world around them, and for a moment, he thought she hadn’t even heard him. Finally, she turned back to Easton, eyes bright.

“I’m amazing.”

• • •

When Easton suggested she take a nap, River was grateful. She’d tried her best all day to ignore her growing headache. The pressure in her head had been steadily building, like a headband squeezing too tightly around her temples. Every hour of climbing had felt like four, and setting up camp was even worse.

Sadly, as good as that nap sounded, she couldn’t take him up on it.

They all shared the tasks around camp, and asking someone to pick up the slack so she could rest wasn’t okay. Instead, she helped finish setting up camp while Easton left them to check the route ahead, the marmot at his heels.

River was daydreaming about that nap Easton had recommended when the real headache hit, fast and with no further warning. The steady pressure abruptly turned into a sledgehammer, like someone striking her between the eyes. Midstep between her tent and the dining tent, River gasped and staggered.

Someone shouted in alarm as her knee hit the snow beneath her.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” she forced between her teeth, instinctively shoving back to her feet to cover the misstep. Instantly, the world spun as she sank back down again.

A hand caught her arm as Ben’s face swam in and out of focus in front of her.

“Whoa, better stay still until Easton gets here to look at you.” Ben pulled out his radio. “Hey, man, we’ve got a problem. River’s going AMS on us.”

“I don’t have altitude sickness,” she insisted, but the pain in her head made her words come out a whimper. “It’s only a migraine. I’m fine.”

“Any signs of HACE?” Easton’s voice was a hard snap through the crackling of the radio.

Ben frowned at her before replying. “She says it’s a headache, but she went down quick.”

“Get her to my tent,” he ordered. “Get fluids in her. I’m on my way.”

Using Ben as a support, River rose to her feet and staggered in the direction Ben led her. Voices spoke, asking if she was okay, but they blended together in one mass of noise, piercing through her brain. At least Easton’s tent was larger than the one she was using and was easier to accommodate both a reclining person and Ben’s helping hands. When Ben told her to lie down on Easton’s sleeping bag, River didn’t fight him. Never had her head hurt so much. The pounding of her blood in her ears grew frighteningly loud, so much so, she could barely hear the opening of the tent’s zipper when Easton arrived. She didn’t know how far away he’d been, but he must have rushed to get back so quick.

“Whisky girl. You slipped fast on me. Tell me what’s wrong.” His rumble was quiet and as gentle as his hands on her wrist, taking her pulse.

“I have a headache.” River’s teeth gritted together, unable to open her eyes to look at him. “It’s been building all day, but I didn’t say anything. I usually have a high pain tolerance.”