Her face was round and warm-toned, a scatter of faint marks along her collarbone where old cattle rope had left impressions after years of guiding stock, and at her upper arm where a small, dark tattoo of what appeared to be a vine — she'd gotten it at eighteen, allegedly to seem interesting, and it had not wound up serving that function. Her hair was pulled up in a practical knot. She had nice eyes. Sharp eyes. Currently narrowing.
"Are you 'really' eating soil in the morning, Jacob?" she said, clicking her tongue again as she looked at him kneeling in the dirt.
He blinked. He stood. His chest cracked open a little with something warm and idiotic.
"Oh — Rika." The name came out before he had a handle on his expression. "You're — you're here. I just—"
She had already lifted her leg.
