Private Cuts

[Cain Darlite]

An overnighter with her parents in Boston, a can of cold coffee to start the day off painlessly, and a three hour drive up to the coast of Maine. Being able to do such things was what undoubtedly made freelance work so pleasant…though in this case, Danielle just had a bit of a dry spell in terms of gigs available.

Didn’t matter though. It had been a fair while since she’d seen Sabine; their communications in that ‘Post-TS Support Group’ the older woman was managing had been sparse and disjointed, what with Danielle running to and fro with work and Sabine driving to and fro with her door-knocking. And when she learned that Sabine would be up in the area? Well, a ten hour drive wasn’t much, to see a friend online in real life.

As she approached the coast, the wind that blew in from the open windows of her Prius grew colder, fresher. She could taste the salt in the air, that acrid coating mixing with the oils exuded from ancient evergreens. Cutler Coast, what a little gem. Free parking and no reservations, with scenery to make one want to do a backflip, if they were willing to risk their spine. It was still early morning, and the sun had not yet risen, but the sky itself was beginning to brighten, the dark forest a striking silhouette of furred spears. The car’s headlights caught the signs to the first campground, and, slowing down to better read upcoming signs, Danielle navigated her way into the place where they planned to meet up, backing in near the trailhead.

Three hours, almost four hours of driving, but at least the car was comfy and the caffeine was kicking in. She examined her face with the rearview mirror, pinching at her short bangs. Her parents had certainly been surprised by it, even if she had been nothing but surprises over the last four years. First going bald, then getting piercings, and now switching to a new haircut every few months. If it wasn’t for her eyes, she’d be a total stranger.

It was nice to be a stranger though. Didn’t even look like the sharply-dressed woman from yesterday, now that she was ready to muck it up with a windbreaker over a tank top and a pair of convertible jeans that the sales lady said would be perfect for climbing in. Yup. Change was good. What was living another year if you couldn’t come up with another you?

Danielle downed the last bit of her coffee, tossed a handful of almonds into her mouth, and, crunching away, exited her car. She was still alone, and it was still chilly, but hey, that was fine too. Would be embarrassing to do warm-ups when a professional climber was nearby.

And so, as the sun rose and the Airpods connected, she began her jumping jacks, her movements timed, as always, to whatever music was shuffled into her list.

 

[Gwyn ap Herne]

.

It wasn't often that her hunting grounds went coastal. Sabine's boots hit stone on mile-high climbs, angles that made three fingers the only things keeping her anchored reverse against gravity, and peaks that overlooked the lazy sprawl of the North American continent in every direction. Deserts. Forests. All of them crowned by mountains made of climbrocks and quarries left abandoned for her and rainwater to collect. The coastal sweep of the Atlantic and Pacific rarely had the faces she wanted to grapple with. They were lovely for camping nearby and the rare deep sea fishing expedition with friends, but they weren't her calling. But some places? Some places were hidden gems, whose names were eventually tucked in-between tales of cavern delving and free climbing. Cutler Coast was one of those areas. The Cutler Coast Public Reserve ran flush up against Quoddy Head State Park and between the lighthouse on the point and the five hour loop of the coastal hiking trail was the diamond in the rough.

Reaching out to Danielle wasn't hard. They kept in touch sporadically (Sabine and poor connection's fault mostly), but Terrasphere had made some habits hard to shake. Some people hard to abandon. Her friends from before wouldn't understand, so she didn't breathe a word. If they did, she was worried they'd join to go climbing floating fucking mountains and then she'd be knocking on their doors and-

It wasn't far from the campsite she'd stayed in the night prior to the lot they'd meet up at. She was still a little surprised she'd been beaten. It was nice though. Assured some anxious part of her that Danielle really did enjoy her company despite. Well, all of it. Her ratty old red Jeep looked odd next to the sleeker little car. Shame it was often too cold and the rain too quick off the waters for her to have the roof and doors off, but sacrifices must be made not to drench the damn thing. Long arms with corded muscle fished behind her seat and a backpack came up free and easy. She slung open the door and joined the party.

"Morning, miss," she called across the gravel between them. Grinning came easier to her out here on her own turf, "You come here often?"

Her looked clothes decent for what Sabine had planned. The hike wasn't too hard, just lengthy to get to the route itself. Even without climbing shoes, Danielle would be fine wherever she decided to post up above or below the climb. "Hope you managed to find some trailrunners you like. A handful of hours there and back'll be a little rough. Think you can take it?" The blonde hefted her backpack up onto one shoulder. The sound of the carabiners and quickdraws knocking into one another carried through the tried and true canvas of her pack.

 

[Cain Darlite]

“Bit early in the morning to be working on your pick-up game, chief,” Danielle shot back, firing off a wink after she actually thought through what she had just said. “Morning to you too, Sabine. Ate yet?”

She popped her earbuds out, slotting them back into the case. For someone who spent hours on the road and in a car, the older woman still looked sharp as hell. Danielle herself wasn’t nearly as twiggy as she had been in her ‘slim and handsome princely vibes’ days of skipping meals to play fucking Terrasphere, but the difference in muscular definition was big enough that it made her jealous. Just a bit, and just in a healthy sorta way. She’d have to ask what Sabine’s secret was after this.

Well, if the secret was boiled chicken, she was fine with giving up on that dream.

“Yeah,” the short-haired woman said, tapping her toes against the ground. Even in the dim light of the morning, the aggressively vibrant orange-blues of her Speedgoats shone bright. Reflective materials were wonderful indeed! …though it was a shame they didn’t have light-up heels. “Never missed a day of cardio in my life.” A finger snap. A lopsided grin. “For the last six months, at least.”

From her trunk, she pulled out her own case of camera equipment, a fair bit lighter than Sabine’s loadout. Camera technology had gotten seriously impressive over the years, and while something could be said about the tactile feel of having a proper camera, a smartphone was more than good enough for everything except drone shots. A daypack was large enough to fit all that she needed, though the tripod still had to be hefted over her shoulder.

“So yeah, lead the way?”

The jangling of the carabiners drew her eyes. Maybe that was her secret? Should bug Sabine about letting her try that bag on for size later.