Sunlight filtered through the tent to fall in a warming bath over her face. Freeing her arms from her sleeping bag, she stretched them above her head and drew a deep breath of crisp, clear air, a sense of contentment engulfing her. She pulled herself up onto one elbow to look over to where Heath had been lying when she fell asleep. He was gone, his sleeping bag neatly rolled up atop his bubble mattress. Stretching again, she stood. And shivered. She grabbed her vest that had served as a pillow and pulled it on. Spring in this country still boasted frosty nights that left a distinct nip in the morning air. Coffee. I need a cup of hot, black coffee. She unzipped the door flap and stepped out into a dazzling green spring morning where water droplets from melting frost glistened jewel-like on grass and trees. The sky boasted a flawless blue, and the river swept past in wild, majestic abandon. And squatted beside it, Heath Oakes, naked down to the waist, was splashing its icy water over his face and upper body.
