At the clubhouse, engines were already warming when they arrived. The Iron Wolves had gathered in the blue-gray light with the easy coordination of people who had done the same thing for years without needing much discussion. Helmets rested on seats, coffee came from a large metal urn, and riders checked one another's lights and tires while making jokes too quiet for Cassie to hear over the engines.
Derek saw her climb off Graham's bike and called across the yard, "Still time to go home, professor."
Cassie smiled despite herself. "Still time to answer my questions."
A few people laughed, including Maria. Derek looked surprised at having been answered without anger. It was not friendship, but it was the first moment Cassie saw him as something other than a man committed to disliking her.
Graham adjusted the fastening beneath her helmet and stepped back. "Remember what I said. You tell me if anything's wrong."
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The Iron Wolves rolled out through the open gate in pairs, their engines rising together until the ground beneath Cassie's boots seemed to tremble. Graham took his place toward the front with Hank and Maria nearby. Cassie settled behind him, slipped her hands around the secure grab points, and felt the motorcycle move forward beneath her. The clubhouse disappeared behind the bend in the road, and with it went the comfortable belief that she could understand this world simply by asking good questions.
The first twenty minutes were almost everything Cassie had imagined. Dawn spread across the hills in soft bands of pink and pale gold, the road curved between stands of maple and pine, and the air smelled of damp leaves and cold stone. Graham's motorcycle moved with a steady confidence that made its great weight seem almost effortless. Through the helmet speakers, she could hear the quiet sound of his breathing and the occasional short instruction when the road changed shape.
Then her back began to hurt. The muscles along her thighs tightened until every bend required more concentration than the last, and the novelty of the wind gave way to an awareness that the wind did not stop simply because she wanted a moment to rest. The group climbed into higher country, where the sunlight had not yet reached the shady sides of the ridges. Cassie felt cold working through the layers of her gloves and discovered that the road could be both beautiful and exhausting.
She had expected freedom to feel light. Instead, she felt the physical effort of staying properly balanced, the responsibility of not distracting her father, and the complicated trust involved in being carried along by someone else's decisions. She could not look at a map or write anything down. Her notebook sat sealed inside its waterproof case, useless until the group stopped.
At the first overlook, riders parked in a line beside a narrow stand of trees. Cassie climbed off and immediately discovered that her legs no longer wanted to straighten. She tried to walk toward the railing as though nothing had happened, but Maria caught the stiff movement and appeared beside her with a water bottle.
"First real ride?" Maria asked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Honey, you got off that bike like somebody had welded your knees into place."
Cassie took the water. "I thought I'd be better at it."
"Why?" Maria asked. "Because you read about it?"