An emerald pond dotted with blossoming water lilies lay twenty feet from the road beneath the shade of a semicircle of diamondleaf willows. A few feet beyond the pond, the trees thickened and became as varied as the Alaskan wilderness would allow, with Sitka spruce, pine and several more species of willow drawing a curtain before the countryside beyond. Some of the more industrious members of the pack were erecting tents. Two orange, a yellow and a fire-engine red one were sprawled across the colorful flora, in varying stages of construction. Other, less-driven, members of Sag had their shoes and socks off, and were dangling their feet in the pond. That looked like a good idea to Silky, and she rolled her bike toward the water. Thigh-high fireweed, the fuchsia heads dipping and bowing in the breeze, was thick beside the road, making her trek toward the pond no easy matter, but the vision of cool water lapping at tired feet drove her forward. “Hey, everybody!” Silky turned toward the tenor voice as Leonard Huff hurried out of the dense wall of trees.
