Page 32 of Fire Dancer

“Oh, it’s on,” she said. “Just not very powerfully.”

Like that made me feel better.

I inched out beside her. “What do you feel?”

She looked at me askance. “You can’t feel it?”

I shrugged. “What am I supposed to feel?”

“It’s an upflow vortex with a light, pulsing sensation.” She held my hand over the middle of the rock.

I felt her hand, which was nice, but no vortex.

“Oh, wait.” She stepped to the safe end of the ledge. Whew. “It’s more powerful here.”

She felt around with her eyes closed, hovering her free hand over different parts of the ledge.

“Oh. Wow,” she murmured.

I peeked sideways. Was she serious?

Yes, because her eyes were half closed, and her expression was that of a person listening to a symphony.

For fear of sounding like an idiot, I said nothing. I did keep hold of her hand, though. For research purposes.

“Yep. Much more powerful here,” she murmured.

A raven flew overhead, cawing.

Pippa frowned, felt around for another minute, then sighed. “Now it’s off again. They tend to come and go.”

Her tone was as casual as if she were talking about fashion trends or Texan tourists. Then she smiled and pointed. “Look. Our shadows.”

Good old Pippa. She had the ability to find wonder in anything. Flowers. Scampering puppies. Even her own shadow.

I had to agree this was especially cool, though. The sun cast a shadow of the rocky outcrop onto the landscape, and nestled in the slot between the two jutting rocks were two small figures. Us.

Pippa waved, and her shadow waved back.

“You have to wave too!” she said.

I did as I was told, and my shadow waved back just as obediently.

A bittersweet feeling snuck up on me as I looked down at our two shadows. The two of us together — that’s how we belonged. And with nothing but our silhouettes down there, you could almost buy into the fantasy. A happy young couple, looking at a promising future together.

A thick, lumpy feeling registered in my chest, like it always did when I thought about Pippa.

She started forming letters with her arms and singing like The Village People. “Y-M-C-A…”

I chuckled.

She tried the Macarena next, but that didn’t show up in her shadow.

“Oh, here! Make a star!” She slipped in front of me, holding her arms to the sides.

Like a loyal dog intent on pleasing its master, I stuck mine up at forty-five-degree angles.

“Is this appropriate behavior around a vortex?” I scolded.