Northern Lights

doing." Bing tossed a shovelful of snow on Nate's boots.
    "Then I'll let you keep doing it."
    "Asshole," Bing muttered under his breath as Nate walked back to his car.
    Nate turned, considered briefly. "Is asshole a step up or step down from cheechako?"
    The little man snorted out a laugh but only shoved the blade of his shovel into the snow, leaned on it as Bing measured Nate. "Same damn thing."
    "Just checking."
    Nate got back in the car and left Bing sneering after him.
    He kept driving, away from town, around the sharp curve of the lake.
    Meg lived out this way, he'd checked, and since he could see her plane resting on the frozen surface, he was in the right place.
    He turned into what looked like it might be a road hacked out of the trees and bumped his way along it to a house.
    He didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. The seclusion wasn't a surprise, nor were the heart-stopping views in all directions. Those went with the territory.
    But the house was pretty, a kind of sophisticated cabin, he supposed. Wood and glass, covered porches, bright red shutters framing the windows.
    A walkway had been dug through the snow from drive to front porch. He could see where other paths had been tramped down from the house to outbuildings. One of those buildings, midway from the house to the edge of the forest, rose on stilts.
    On the porch was a neatly stacked mountain of split wood.
    The sun was coming up now, gloriously, bathing the scene with that eerie dawn. Smoke pumped out of three stone chimneys into the lightening sky.
    Fascinated, he shut off the engine.
    And heard the music.
    It filled the world. A strong, sweet female voice, twined around strings and pipes lifted with sunrise over the endless white.
    It soared over him when he stepped out of the truck and seemed to come from the air or the earth or the sky.
    Then he saw her—the sharp red of her parka, walking over the white, away from the frozen lake with two dogs trotting beside her.
    He didn't call out to her, wasn't sure he could have. There was a picture here, and his mind clicked the shutter. The dark-haired woman in red, wading through the pristine white with two beautiful dogs flanking her, and the glory of the morning mountains at her back.
    The dogs saw, or scented, him first. Barking cut the air, sliced through the soaring music. They shot toward him like two blurry gray bullets.
    He considered leaping back into his truck and wondered if that would cement his status as cheechako asshole.
    There was always the possibility that his outer gear was thick enough to protect his skin from canine teeth should it become an issue.
    He stayed where he was, saying, good dogs, nice dogs, over and over in his head like a mantra.
    He braced for a leap, hoped it wouldn't be at his throat. Both dogs spewed snow into the air, then stopped a foot in front of him, bodies quivering, teeth showing. Full alert.
    Both pair of eyes were blue, ice crystal blue, like their mistress's.
    Nate's breath streamed out, a cloud on the air. "Well, God," he murmured. "You're a couple of beauties."
    "Rock! Bull!" Meg shouted out. "Friend."
    The dogs relaxed immediately and moved forward to sniff at him.
    "Will they take my hand off if I touch them?" he called.
    "Not now."
    Taking it on faith, he stroked a gloved hand over each head. Since they seemed to enjoy it, he crouched down and gave them both a good rub while they pressed against him.
    "You got balls, Burke."
    "I was hoping that wouldn't be the part they'd chomp on. Are they sled dogs?"
    "No." Her cheeks were pink with cold when she reached him. "I'm not a musher, but they come from a good line of them. They just live the high life out here with me."
    "They have your eyes."
    "Maybe I was a husky in a former life. What're you doing out here?"
    "I was just . . . what's that music?"
    "Loreena McKennit. Like it?"
    "It's amazing. It's like . . . God."
    She laughed. "You're the first man I've met who'll admit She's a woman. Out for a holiday drive?"
    He straightened. "Holiday?"
    "New Year's Eve."
    "Oh. No. Had a little vehicular out on Lake Drive. I'm looking for the primary witness. Maybe you've seen him. Big guy, four legs, funny hat." He made antlers out of his fingers.
    Cutie, she wondered, why do your eyes look so sad even when you smile? "As it happens, I've seen a couple of guys like that in the vicinity."
    "In that case, I should come in, take your statement."
    "I might enjoy having you take my statement, but it'll