He could see Liam on the opposite bank, pole in the water, as usual. His brother was never happier than when he was fishing or gardening or puttering with some household task. Like their father, he was, quiet and naturally content. If he had his way, he would never leave home; even trips to town for supplies were generally treated as an interruption and an annoyance.
Hollen sighed, restlessness tugging the corners of his mouth downward. He had convinced Liam their food budget could stand another few hunks of venison in the freezer, but the truth was he couldn’t stand spending the day at home. The wind bit with a playful vigor that called him to the mountain. He cast one last half-guilty glance over his shoulder at Liam, but his brother didn’t even seem to see him.
Shaking off the last pretence at restraint, he strode purposefully into the fire of the trees. Wind tore through the tops, ripping orange from the twigs like soaring flames. The mountain wavered, hazy, and Hollen broke into a run, arms flung wide. Leaves of fire swirled around him as endless blue sky blinded him. He soared above the mountain, and his roar lit the clouds like kindling.
The Word Worker 