Back at the cabin, Ronan Kendrick was shoveling snow on the roof while Evelyn Ford cleaned the pheasant she had just hunted. She was making chicken soup tonight.
She had just weighed herself. Including her clothes and shoes, she came in at exactly 110 pounds. Since she was five-foot-seven, this was a decent weight, and her clothes and shoes added something to it, too.
She had put on a little weight this winter, though.
'A little extra fat is a good thing; you're supposed to bulk up for winter,' she thought. 'Look at this delicate face, this gorgeous face. Even if I ballooned to 165 pounds, I'd still be the hottest thing on this mountain.'
'Ronan Kendrick doesn't count. He's not human.'
The camellia seeds had already sprouted small shoots. Evelyn Ford watered them with nutrient solution, hoping they would break through the soil by the time spring arrived.
