The Hollow Ridge Fall Fair arrived the last weekend in October, a tradition that turned the empty field behind the school into a patchwork of booths, food trucks, and carnival lights strung on extension cords. Hay bales lined the edges, pumpkins glowed with carved faces, and the air smelled of fried dough, woodsmoke, and damp leaves. Snow still capped the higher ridges, but down here it was just cold enough for coats and excuses to stand close.
Kai walked the grounds with Lila.
She'd texted him Friday night: *Fair tomorrow? I have a booth for my art. Could use moral support.* He'd shown up early, hands in his jacket pockets, breath fogging.
Lila's booth was small but perfect—a folding table draped in deep blue cloth, her sketches and watercolors arranged in neat rows. She stood behind it in a soft cream turtleneck sweater tucked into a rust-colored corduroy skirt that flared at mid-thigh, thick tights and ankle boots keeping the chill off. A burgundy beret sat tilted over her auburn waves, freckles standing out against pale cheeks flushed from the cold. She looked like she'd stepped out of one of her own paintings.
"Hi," she said when she spotted him, voice shy but eyes bright. "You came."
"Wouldn't miss it."
He stepped closer, letting his gaze travel slow—over the way the sweater clung gently to her chest, the skirt swaying when she moved. She noticed, bit her lip, but didn't hide.
"You look beautiful," he said, low enough only she heard.
Her blush deepened. "I… tried a few outfits. This one felt right."
"It's perfect."
The fair swelled around them—kids running with cotton candy, parents calling names, country music thumping from the main stage. Travis and his crew lounged near the beer tent, throwing occasional glances their way, but keeping distance after the cafeteria standoff.
Lila sold two small sketches early—a lake scene and a portrait of an old barn. Between customers she talked, voice gaining confidence.
"I've been drawing more since you moved here," she admitted, organizing pencils. "You've got… good lines. Strong jaw, but your eyes are softer."
He leaned on the table edge. "You offering to draw me?"
"I already started." She pulled a sketchbook from under the cloth, flipped to a half-finished page: his profile from the bonfire night, firelight catching the planes of his face. It was good—really good.
Kai studied it, then her. "Damn, Lila."
She tucked hair behind her ear. "It's not done. I wanted to get the shadows right, but I need better light. And… the real thing."
"Anytime."
A lull hit. She closed the booth for lunch break, and they wandered.
They shared a paper boat of curly fries drizzled with cheese, then tried the ring toss—Kai winning a small stuffed wolf on his third try. He handed it to her without ceremony.
"For the artist," he said.
She hugged it to her chest, smiling soft. "Thank you."
They found a quieter spot behind the hay-bale maze, out of the main flow. Lila leaned against a stack, wolf tucked under one arm.
"I don't usually do things like this," she said. "Fairs, crowds. My dad's pretty strict—farm chores, church, home. Art's my escape."
Kai stood close, blocking the wind. "He know you're here?"
"Yeah. Told him I was selling for school credit." She rolled her eyes. "He thinks drawing's a phase."
He reached out, brushed a stray strand from her beret. "It's not a phase. You're good. Really good."
Her breath caught at the touch. "You always say the right thing."
"Only when it's true."
They stood like that—close, almost touching. He could see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, the faint tremble in her lower lip.
"Lila…"
She rose on her toes, quick and brave, pressing her lips to his. Soft, tentative. First kiss. He let her set the pace, hand gentle at her waist, the other cupping her cheek. She tasted like salt from the fries and something sweet underneath. When she pulled back, eyes wide, cheeks scarlet.
"I've wanted to do that for weeks," she whispered.
He smiled slow. "Me too."
They kissed again—deeper this time, her hands fisting his jacket, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. The wolf got squished between them; she laughed against his mouth.
A shout from the maze broke the moment—kids running past. They separated, breathing hard.
"Later?" she asked, voice hopeful.
"Definitely."
Back at the booth, business picked up. Sierra showed mid-afternoon in jeans tucked into boots and a fitted black thermal under an open denim jacket, ponytail swinging. She bought a small watercolor of the ridge at sunset, grinning when Lila wrapped it.
"Looks good enough to hang in the Jeep," she said, then nodded at Kai. "Keeping her company?"
"Trying."
Em arrived near dusk in a cropped cream sweater that bared her midriff and high-waisted dark plaid skirt over leggings, curls wild under a knit beanie. She bought nothing but posed dramatically in front of Lila's display until Lila laughed and sketched a quick caricature—big eyes, bigger smile.
Jazz rolled in last, off shift, wearing ripped black jeans and a leather jacket over a red crop top. She lingered longest, buying a charcoal drawing of an old truck that looked suspiciously like her Chevy.
"Gonna frame this for the garage," she told Lila, then pulled Kai aside for a quick, heated kiss behind the booth—out of sight, but not out of promise.
By evening the fair lights glowed bright against gathering dark. Lila's booth closed; sales better than she'd hoped.
They walked the grounds one last loop—five of them now, natural as breathing. Laughter easy, shoulders brushing. Travis watched from a distance but stayed clear.
At the Ferris wheel, the girls insisted Kai ride with Lila—"artist's privilege." The car swayed up into cold night air, town tiny below, stars sharp overhead.
Halfway up, it stopped—routine pause to load others. They rocked gently.
Lila leaned into his side, wolf in her lap.
"Today was perfect," she said softly.
He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "Yeah. It was."
She tilted her face up. They kissed again—slow, unhurried, the wheel creaking around them. When it started moving, neither hurried to separate.
At the bottom, the others waited, knowing smiles all around.
Sierra drove him home later—Lila in shotgun, Em and Jazz following in Jazz's truck. The ridge road was dark, headlights cutting through pine shadows.
Halfway up, Sierra slowed. "What the hell…"
Fresh tire tracks cut off the main road into the forest—deep ruts, not from any local vehicle. Broken branches showed something heavy had pushed through recently.
"Those weren't here yesterday," Sierra said quietly.
Kai stared into the dark trees. "Same guys from the garage?"
"Maybe. Or worse." She idled a minute, then continued driving. "We should tell your dad. And the sheriff."
At the cabin, Marcus was home, cleaning a rifle at the kitchen table—routine maintenance, but the timing felt heavy.
Kai told him everything: the garage visitors, the tracks.
Marcus listened without interrupting, then nodded.
"Poachers been getting bold. Out-of-season elk, maybe trafficking parts. Sheriff's spread thin." He met Kai's eyes. "We keep eyes open. You see anything, you tell me first."
"Yes, sir."
The girls left reluctantly—hugs lingering, promises of texts and tomorrow.
Inside, Kai helped Marcus lock up, then crashed hard.
Dreams came fragmented: Lila's soft kiss, Jazz's heat, the dark tracks swallowing headlights.
He woke once in the night to wind rattling the windows, and for a moment thought he heard an engine far off in the forest.
Morning would come soon enough.
And whatever was out there in the shadows, he'd be ready.