Page 40 of Torin

“That’s pretty dark.”

“They’re comforting.”

Torin looks over at me. “Millions of imaginary people dying comforts you?”

“You know they’re going to survive.”

“Millions of them definitely don’t.”

“The important ones survive.”

He laughs, and I do too.

Torin is still smiling when the trees thin ahead of us.

“We’re close,” he says.

“To the lake?”

“The lodge first. Unless you were planning to swim naked.”

I turn to look at him. His eyes stay innocently on the road.

“Nice try.”

“Wasn’t trying anything.”

I snort.

A few minutes later, the trees open onto a broad clearing cut into the mountainside.

“Whoa.”

The lodge sits at the far end, backed by pines. It’s huge—two stories of timber and stone, with a long porch across the front and windows reflecting the afternoon sun. A couple of trucks are parked off to one side, and there’s a stack of split firewood that looks big enough to heat a small village.

I’m not sure what I expected from a bear clan’s home, but it wasn’t this.

Torin glances at me as he turns into the clearing. “What?”

“I thought it would be more…”

“More what?”

I search for the word. “Bear-y.”

He laughs. “Bear-y.”

“You know, skins displayed on the walls. Giant furniture. Maybe somebody gnawing on a deer leg.”

“Orson knows he’s supposed to use a plate when we have company.”

I look at him.

Torin grins and pulls up beside the other trucks.

I’m pretty sure he’s joking.

He kills the engine and climbs out.