Free Fresh Tracks by Georgia Beers Page A

but then had to remind herself
    that they weren't exactly in the middle of nowhere and there were certainly other people
    who lived in this area. As she headed out the front door, she noticed a single set of
    footprints that led to the end of the driveway and back: Jo retrieving the paper from the
    mailbox by the road.
    The air was brisk; it wasn't supposed to get above twenty-five degrees today. She trudged
    around the house through the snow, which was a little more than ankle deep. It hadn't
    occurred to her to bring her cross-country skis; what a perfect opportunity to glide
    silently through some beautiful scenery. She made a mental note to ask if Amy had a pair
    she could borrow. Laura loved her job at Shadow Oaks, but it was hectic and time-
    consuming and she needed to grab on to every opportunity for relaxation that she could.
    The sun hadn't quite risen, but the sky was smoothly fading from deep gray to light silver
    and the snow allowed for more than enough visibility for her to trek along as the morning
    broke folly. She could hear the winter birds chirping in the distance as though discussing
    breakfast and their plans for the day. She'd also noticed a handful of bird feeders dotting
    the property, courtesy of Amy, most likely. The woman was a serious nature lover. Laura
    suspected that if she looked hard enough, she'd probably also find peanuts scattered
    about for the squirrels and chipmunks and a salt lick or two for the deer.
    Ten minutes into her walk, she stood completely still, breathing in the clean, crisp air,
    listening to the sounds of nature around her. Laura was a country girl at heart. She'd spent
    much of her childhood at her grandparents' in a house very much like Amy's. She'd built
    forts in the woods,'caught toads from the nearby creek, and eaten wild raspberries on lazy
    Sunday afternoons. This was home to her. She'd discovered recently, for the first time in
    her life, that she was okay being alone with herself from time to time. Since moving out of
    her house with Stephen and renting half a duplex, she'd begun to enjoy her own quiet time.
    That didn't mean she didn't like going out, hanging with her friends or attending the
    occasional party. It just meant that she was no longer cast into a blind panic when she had
    plans with nobody but herself. Strange as it sounded, she felt that at forty years old she
    was.finally beginning to understand herself.
    There was still the loneliness, but she was managing.
    By her calculations, she was a little over halfway through her walk on the woodsy path. She
    could feel the rosiness in her cheeks from the brisk air, the blood coursing through her
    veins, and then she heard a small whimper. She stopped in her tracks and cocked her head
    to listen, furrowing her brow and wondering if she'd imagined the sound.
    It came again, sort of a combination whine and snort. She followed it, the direction taking
    her off the path several yards, until she came
    upon a small dog. He was a terrier mix of some kind, curled in a ball and shivering at the
    base of a tree. His brown wiry hair was matted and his big brown eyes were sad and wary.
    He saw Laura and shivered some more, obviously too cold and lost to jump up and run away
    from her.
    "Oh," she breathed, approaching him slowly. "Hey there, little guy." She removed her glove and held her hand out to the dog's nose, keeping her voice soft and steady. "What are you doing out here? You must be freezing."
    The dog gave Laura's fingertips a halfhearted sniff and then his pink tongue darted out
    and swiped them gently, once. She moved her hand to his chin and scratched gently
    underneath it, taking her time and letting him get used to her.
    "We need to warm you up, little guy, and we need to do it soon. Have you been out here all night?"
    She scanned the area, noting with bewilderment that there were no fresh tracks aside
    from her own. Could the poor dog have possibly spent the entire night in that one spot?
    The thought