Highwater: a Suspense Thriller You Won't Be Able to Put Down
“He moved out of the trees and into a clearing of tall, dead, goldenrod. The snow here was thin, and allowed the reeds to stand on end. Where they were still bent, he followed, moving along through the labyrinth of deer runs.
The air was fresh. It was a cool, wet, fresh thing; a living thing. The muted colors, the drab ecru of the goldenrod stalks, the dark green of the tree line hemming the clearing, the battleship grey clouds — they all seemed brighter, as though Jared’s eyes were a siphon, drawing out every last drop of color and contrast. He felt sharp, so sharp. So crisp, like the air. His hangover was nonexistent. He’d had no breakfast but didn’t require it. His breathing was low and slow, whistling through his nostrils. He felt fit, lithe, and powerful.
He moved through the deer runs, the Mossberg shotgun slung over his back, his hands out to either side of him, palms out and facing forward, splayed fingers knocking softly into stiffened reeds.
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