1
Gunnar Rebel crested the ridge overlooking the Mosquito Fork outside of Chicken, Alaska and called his sled dogs to a halt. The late February wind whipped against his face, sending a shiver down his spine even though he wore his thick parka. Smoke curled from the chimney of his grandparents’ two-bedroom cabin his mom had grown up in. Rocky, Gunnar’s lead dog, yipped and looked back at Gunnar like he’d lost his marbles stopping so close to home.
Gunnar shook his head and snorted. “Maybe I have lost my mind. Ever consider that?”
Rocky whined and cocked his head.
“Yeah? Not completely gone?” Gunnar rolled his shoulders. “You’re probably right, but since I’m having a conversation with a dog that can’t respond, I’m not sure I believe you.” The fact that he said more words to his dogs than any human, even when he lived in civilization and not the end of the world, didn’t escape his attention. “Come on, Rocky. Take us home.”
Rocky yipped excitedly, prompting the other dogs to bark like a wild pack of wolves and lurch at their traces. Gunnar let the brake free and rocketed along the ridge. He still couldn’t believe that he’d let Sunny, his baby sister, talk him into giving up his chance at racing the Yukon Quest and Iditarod that year in exchange for training for an expedition to the North Pole he might not even go on.
When she’d come to him with the news that Mason Steele, the owner of Nordic Canine Kibbles and an extreme adventurer, wanted to sponsor Gunnar, the news had shocked him. After spending the last fifteen years as an Air Force pararescueman, finding a sponsor his first year mushing shouldn’t have happened, especially one as big as NCK. Having said sponsor stipulate that the support only came if Gunnar took the year off from racing and trained for a long-distance expedition to the North Pole had gotten an eyebrow raise, especially since he and Sunny were the replacements for if someone got injured on the actual team going to the Pole.
Being a PJ, he was used to adjusting mid-mission. In fact, his role as a pararescueman had prepared him to be an alternate, the back-up plan when things went wrong. That was their purpose in the military, rescue the special forces when missions went sideways. He’d just never been paid thousands to do it.
Not that he was complaining.
He leaned into the corner as Rocky led the dogs around the last bend home at a break-neck speed. He must want his warm bed and fish and kibble soup bad. Gunnar laughed at Rocky’s smile and the way his tongue hung from his mouth. The dog loved it out here.
Gunnar did, too, though the solitude with no one but his dogs, Sunny, and her dogs as company may have fed into his anxiety around others, left over from his capture in the Afghanistan desert. He would probably adjust to life out of the military better if he’d stayed in Seward with Bjørn instead of jumping on the chance to escape into isolation. Not that he could pass up this opportunity. Too much money this year and in the future rode on him training for an expedition he wouldn’t be going on.
However, he’d created the isolation by not going into Tok when Sunny did. He’d only ventured out of the quiet of the old cabin twice since Mason had offered the position. If Gunnar had missed Thanksgiving and Christmas at his parents’ place south of Tok, his mama would’ve flown in to the homestead herself and tossed him onto the plane, hogtied if need be.
Knowing solitude only fed into his issues was one thing, taking the action needed to fix that was completely different. He’d use this winter to recoup, then get back to civilization and his dog sledding trips across the Resurrection Bay glaciers for tourists come spring. Maybe then participating in society wouldn’t be like pulling teeth.
Gunnar let out a sigh as he pulled into the yard. The front door opened, and Sunny yanked on her parka as she stepped out of the cabin. She smiled and waved before rushing to help get the dogs off the line and to their kennels.
“Nice ride?” she asked over the barking of her own team’s excitement at the dogs’ return.
“Brisk, but not like December.” Gunnar stripped off his heavy mittens and worked the first wheel dog off of the line.
She nodded. The three weeks of negative fifties and sixties had been brutal, but they’d trained through it. They were staying the winter in Chicken because of the extreme cold found there. Couldn’t get that in Seward where the ocean kept the temperature hovering at a pleasant thirty above most of the winter.
After working in silence to get the dogs settled in their kennels, Gunnar stomped on the entryway and stepped into the cabin. The heat blasted from the wood stove, instantly causing him to sweat. He shucked his heavy parka and hung it by the door before heading to the kitchen to make the dogs their dinner.
“Just two more weeks and we can go back to the real world.” Sunny closed the door with a sigh and hung her coat next to his.
“Yep.” He didn’t want to think of that fact.
“I know I said I needed to get away from people and their duplicity, but I think I’ve had enough of Chicken for a while.” She pointed toward the old cookstove that doubled as their heat with her chin. “Need help?”
“Nah.” He scooped the dry dog food out of the tote and filled the large stockpot of boiling fish heads and rice the rest of the way to the top.
“I’m not sure how Mama and Dad survived growing up here without going insane. I may not trust people right now, but I still like being around them, at least sometimes.” Sunny plopped down on the threadbare couch that had been there since the seventies.
“Hmm.” Gunnar didn’t know what to say to that.
Since Sunny’s business partner and friend had stolen all the money from their Denali guiding business and disappeared, leaving her with nothing, she’d become a shell of her normal, outgoing self. Normally, she lived up to her name in annoying abundance. Since everything was stolen from her last fall, she’d also lost that.
He’d wanted to call in some favors and find the jerk, but she’d made him swear he wouldn’t. According to her, it was her own fault for being so gullible. A lesson she’d had to learn to find her actual path in life, whatever that meant.
“I guess they would’ve had each other and the other families living around here during that time. Crazy to think there used to be an actual community here year-round.” Sunny picked up whatever romance she was reading today and flipped open the cover.
Gunnar had read more romances over the past months than he had any other genre. He should’ve thought that through and brought more than the measly handful of books he’d packed. He’d never admit to anyone, and had Sunny promise she’d not tell a soul, that he actually enjoyed the books she kept getting every week on the mail plane. She called them clean romance. Gunnar called them enlightening. Maybe if he ever got comfortable being close to others, he could put the knowledge found inked on the pages to use.
“Gonna feed the dogs.” Gunnar lifted the pot with a grunt and headed toward the door.
Sunny jumped up from the table and rushed to open the door, only to pause with her hand on the handle. Gunnar shifted his boots, impatient to feed the dogs and get out of the rest of his gear.