We maneuvered in the dim candle light around the cots, mattresses, pallets and blankets that littered the sleeping quarters on our way out of the stronghold. The kennels were still asleep when we entered and the dogs stirred as we walked by. Buddy was up and wagging his tail, waiting on us. His whole body wagged with the excitement as he realized we were going for a walk.

We stopped by the arms room and checked out our rifles from the quartermaster. There hadn't been any trouble in months but routine habits are hard to get rid of. The gate guard gave a wave and began turning the crank to slide the gate open. The makeshift barrier ground against itself and rattled open. The sky was bright blue and the sun's blazing light caused Elizabeth and I to squint. We quickly donned our goggles and stepped out into the open country.

Buddy bounded ahead into the amber scrub brush with his feet crunching on the red rocky dirt. The ground glittered with mica deposits as we followed the worn footpath down the slight slope to the stream. A few prairie dogs scattered towards their holes and Buddy gave excited chase that ended as fruitlessly as it always did with his confused expression and wagging tail. Surely the little critters seemed magical to him in their consistent escapes.

Elizabeth stopped and admired the creek, as she always did, when we caught sight of it. It was a sparkling thing in the morning sun with splashing white foam and shining wet rocks jutting out across the shallow depths of its impressive width. The stream was an icy wash of melted snow that had poured pure clean water nearly a hundred winding miles out of the rocky peaks of our western borders. It would swell up in the late Spring, dry down to a trickle in the Summer and then swell back up in the Winter. As we neared the edge, Elizabeth and I set the plastic containers down on the rocks to take a small rest. The rocks were already warm with the increasing heat of the day. Buddy was gulping down the icy water while half-submerged in the stream. Elizabeth leaned back against the heat of the rocks as I picked a few pebbles that had sneaked in through the holes in my boots. The walk back would be long and tiring once the jugs had been refilled and we needed to get started before the day became oppressively hot.

Hoping to stretch the lives of our already weathered rifles out a little longer, we sat them down on the big flat rock shelves a few feet from the banks. The first few steps into the Spring melt always took my breath away and a slip on the slick round rocks beneath the surface would be sure to ruin your day. We were a little farther upstream from Buddy when he trotted out of the water and into the bushes. He would usually wander the area searching for threats and prey while we filled the vessels with clean water only to return just as we finished. He kept to his schedule and appeared on the far side of the stream, sniffing the dirt as if he were some kind of bloodhound while I worked. I was capping up the last of my containers when Elizabeth froze solid.

"No," she gasped as her mouth fell open. I turned to see what she was looking at.

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