Two suns were rising in the morning, one to the east and one to the west. The amber glow from the city of Portland simply couldn’t be ignored. In the pre-dawn light, it eclipsed the violet and the blue upon the eastern horizon. It would be a beautiful day; full of sunshine and mild warmth. The mountain passes would be free of mud and snow, but there was that unknown – that light coming from the city. Torsten wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening.

There was a small shack next to the cabin. In it, he kept the things he did not like. It contained articles of gear and clothing he had used in another life. Documents and things. While she was taking her shower, he was making sure that he was efficient for the day. Possible bags were great when out tracking for bear, but they were not adequate if a fight broke out. He had been able to keep much of his equipment from his days in the army, except for the obvious things – like his rifle. The Finnish Jaegers had kept the philosophy of ‘light is right’ when he had been in. When the rest of the world’s armies had converted themselves to fancy tactical vests and modular pouches, the Finnish Special Forces relied on the basic gear of the 1970s. Belts, suspenders and pouches. Steel plates and fancy vests weighed too much. 

The belt and pouches were great. A buttpack on the rear of the belt gave him just enough storage to bring cheese, jerky and smoked sausage on the trip with them. Enough food for two days. He had plenty of paper cartridges for the Sharps rifle he carried, with plenty of loose powder, ball and primer caps for the revolvers. He felt adequate for the day. 

There was one last important thing to grab. In a dusty cigar box next to a window that was accumulating cobwebs, were things he did not want to take. He picked the box up, opening the top of it. Within it lay official documentation. On top was an ID card. It was his NATO identification card. [i]Major Stålhandske, Finnish Army, Utti Jaeger Regiment. [/i] Though Finland was not formally apart of the alliance, it still had sent troops to fight in Afghanistan and took an observer status in Brussels. The card, and paperwork underneath it, was tucked into the pocket of his flannel shirt. 

The Finnish Army had been reluctant to let him go. Rather than lose him overseas, the General Staff had opted to continue to pay him under a ‘reserve’ program. It allowed him to keep his rank and pay, but the ability to live abroad as he pleased. Torsten was now wishing he was back in Finland, fulfilling his purpose. He stepped out of the shack, locking it behind him around the time that Allison had walked out with her jibe about bears.

“Oh, a few came by,” he replied jovially enough from the lightening darkness. “I punched them straight in nose. They go away.” 

He motioned for her to follow him, “It is dark, so please be careful. We do not need broken ankle this morning.” He led her away from the cabin and the main road. They walked into the wilderness for a few moments, before he abruptly turned directions. He was now following the main road down the mountain, but at a few hundred yards distance. As the morning sun rose, he could see the faint outline of the road in the distance, but anyone on the road would be hard-pressed to see them in the woods. 

Every few moments the tall Finn would turn to walk backwards. He eyed the trees, looking past the shadows that would play tricks on frightened men. Upon one such odd event, he smiled at Allison. “Ten miles to the Amish. Then.. forty miles? Forty miles to Portland.”