Free High Impact by Kim Baldwin

banked away toward their original heading and soon reached a wide river valley with high mountains on either side—their way into the Brooks Range. Bryson kept the Cub low enough Emery could see the crests of whitewater rapids as the wide, serpentine tributary raged over rock falls. “What’s that?” she asked.
    “The Wild River. We’ll pass over my cabin soon.”
    “Great. Point it out. And anything else of interest.” Emery stared mostly ahead, looking over Bryson’s shoulder as the valley narrowed. She’d seen no sign of anything manmade since they left Bettles.
    The steep cliff faces grew closer on either side until they seemingly roared down a long hallway. The rush of exhilaration made her dizzy. “Unbelievable,” she told Bryson. “Exactly what I wanted.”
    “Tip of the iceberg,” Bryson replied as the plane descended another few feet, almost skimming the top of the trees that crowded the narrow strips of land on either side of the river. “Where we’re going, we might glimpse the Porcupine Caribou Herd. And I know a couple of valleys where the spring flowers should be at their peak.”
    Emery pulled out her camera and began to snap pictures. She already had a few thousand photos on her portable hard drive, but she’d easily double that number during her time in the Far North. The automatic-stabilization feature ensured that nearly every shot was postcard beautiful.
    The river valley widened again, the mountains retreating a half mile on either side, as the strip of trees lining the water grew into a thick, impenetrable forest.
    “My cabin’s coming up on the left,” Bryson said. “Right at the fork of the river. Built it myself.”
    Emery could see the rooftop in a small clearing a short hike from the water. Set on a rise with mountains all around it, the log structure had to have a magnificent view. “Looks like a nice bit of handiwork. But where the heck do you land?”
    “That gravel bar in the river. I like about three hundred feet at least.” The spit of sand she pointed to seemed impossibly short.
    Emery looked in all directions, but saw no other sign of civilization. “Hard to get accustomed to the isolation up here?”
    Bryson chuckled. “Lived in Alaska all my life, so I’m more accustomed to it than most. But yeah, used to get to me now and then. Not anymore. I have a partner.”
    “Kind of thought as much when I saw you all last night.”
    Bryson glanced at her rearview mirror. “Pretty observant.”
    “I notice things, yes. You’re lucky. She’s beautiful.”
    Bryson chuckled. “Yeah. Amazing in a lot of other ways, too. Karla’s an RN.”
    “I imagine a very valuable resource up here.”
    “Nearest doctor’s in Fairbanks. Karla was an ER nurse in Atlanta, so she can handle most emergencies.”
    “Mind if I ask…were all the women with you gay?”
    “Don’t mind. And yeah. We kinda pegged you, too. Well, Geneva sure did.”
    “The waitress?”
    “Gen’s a good friend. You can imagine up here, opportunities are kind of limited, so she might have been a bit…overly anxious…but you shouldn’t hold that against her. She’s really down-to-earth. Not a player. Just falls hard and fast, if you know what I mean.”
    Emery detected concern in Bryson’s tone, like she was trying to ensure Geneva didn’t get hurt. “Duly noted.”
    “We’re a close-knit group. We look out for each other.”
    “It’s great to be around people you understand, and who understand you. That you can be completely yourself with. I envy you that.”
    “You’ll get to know most of ’em in the next few weeks. For sure Dita, and two of the guides you’ll be going out with—Chaz and Pasha.”
    “I look forward to it. I went over to the Eidson office this morning and sort of met one of your friends there—but I didn’t get her name.”
    “That’d have been Pasha, I expect. She mans the office when Dita’s away.”
    “What’s she like?” Perhaps Bryson could give Emery some