Rebecca started out the morning with a light breakfast down at the Grill. There was something in the air that morning that had drawn her right out of bed, a thrill along her skin that had to do a little with the fresh air. She had stepped out of the front lobby for at least twenty minutes before she went in to eat, feeling that cool, incredible breeze through her hair.

After breakfast, she climbed into her car and made her way down towards Glacier Park, long before mid-morning, humming to herself as she followed the twists and turns of the road. There were so many moments where she wanted to just pull off to the side and look and look.

Everything out here was so amazingly quiet. Even though there were campers and tourists and all sorts of cars and jeeps zipping by, the mountains seemed to take it all in, absorbing the bustle and craziness of people coming out into the wilderness to create a gentle stillness. and letting out this wonderful, gentle stillness that caused something in her chest to swell a little. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she stood straighter when she got out of the car at the kayak rental place, just beside Lake McDonald. She walked with more of a bounce in her step.

“Yes,” she said when she went in, “I have gone kayaking before.” Yes, many times. But she still had to sign a waiver that she didn't really read. All she could think about was how it would feel to slip into that water, to paddle along the clear surface that stretched out under the rocky crags of the mountains. She pulled out her phone, swiping over the Instagram photos from Marcy, earlier in the summer. None of them even came close to what this looked like, what this was really like.

There were people calling to each other from the shoals of the lake, but all of it seemed muted in that spectacular, reverent hush. The pines and fir trees flowing all the way up the sides of the mountains swayed in a breeze that seemed...a little strong, sure, but nothing she probably wouldn't be able to handle. Besides, how hard was it to paddle a kayak? She'd seen it a bunch of times in Marcy's video feeds, she'd watched a few YouTube videos this morning, and it didn't seem that tricky at all—not on a lake. Maybe if she'd been white-water kayaking she would have taken some lessons, but wasn't this the best way to learn?

She pushed out into the water and gasped when the back of her hand dipped into the water with her first push of the paddle. It was so cold. She hadn't imagined it would ever be that cold. It was like a glass of ice water poured over her fingers.

That was the first little tug of unease, the first moment she heard the voice in her head, the one that had been keeping her safe for the last ten years. It whispered, ‘Do you even know what you're doing?’ But she easily put it aside once the sun came out from behind a cloud, and the glide of the kayak through the water was smooth and silent. Her bare knees and legs were a bit cool, but that was fine. She would warm up in the sunshine, slipping through the lake that was rippling a little in the wind, but so clear and clean.

She hadn't gone too far from shore, a little less than halfway across, when she passed a little group of boaters. On the far side of the lake, there weren't any buildings nor were there any people. She didn't notice that a number of the boats had started to head back to shore. At one point, she heard several boaters calling out to her, but she had just waved a hand behind her to say, "Thank you! Thank you! It's great!" She hadn't really been listening at all.

Rebecca was focused on the far side, and how beautiful it was even after the mist and fog had burned away in the afternoon sun. All she wanted was to get closer to that quieter side of the lake. She was sure she had caught sight of something moving over there. A deer maybe? They had deer up here, way up here in the country, and she had never seen one. Not in person. She paddled further, even as the waves around her started to be a little choppier. She pushed against them and didn't quite notice that her hands were turning a shade of blue.

The wind came up stronger now, and it was only then that Rebecca looked up, and saw the dark clouds pushing around the mountaintops, crowding low over the trees, a sheet of rain she could actually see drawing closer and closer over the lake.

How did you even turn this thing around? She couldn't really back paddle all the way to the rental shack. She shifted a little in place, trying to keep the kayak steady as it bucked a little from the waves. Her stomach growled, and her arms were starting to ache. She turned her head, and saw how far the safer shore was now, and there was no one out on the water anymore. A tendril of fear started to climb up her chest.

But it shouldn't be that hard, she thought, and paddled off to the side, steering herself around. But the chop of the water, pushing this way and that, made it hard for her to steer properly, and just as she was about to let out a little shout of pride at getting herself pointed in the right direction, the kayak lurched to one side in the wave and wind. It was only a little lurch, but it put her a little closer to the water, and she realized now that if she happened to dunk her head in, it wouldn't be a refreshing dip. It would be freezing cold.

The thin trill of fear grew in strength, and she pushed hard against the oar.

The kayak nosed back towards the other side of the lake, but the wind was now coming up quite strong, and water splashed up over the front. The wave pushed up over the side, spilling across the apron, and Rebecca gasped. It was as biting cold as she had feared. A gust picked up from behind, and the kayak started to rock back and forth under her. She looked at the distance between her and the rocky, empty shore, and let out a low, worried moan. Her arms were already so tired, and even trying just to keep moving in a straight line under such chop was taking everything she had. The first drops of rain fell on her head.

Is that it, then? she asked, inwards and upwards to anyone who was listening. Is this what I get for even trying to live a little? She paddled as hard as she could for a few minutes, but her frantic downward sweeps of the oar only carried her a little ways forward. What was worse, she didn't quite know how to keep herself steady and paddle strongly at the same time, and it wasn't long until a wave pushed up against the side of the kayak just as she was paddling hard on the other side, and the angle and the wave rocked the whole thing over. She had a split second to think What now? before she went under.

There had been videos about how to roll a kayak back up again, and she had watched a few of them that morning, but none of it came back to her, with freezing water up her nose, down her open mouth. The only thing she could think of to save herself was to pull on the apron, and she wriggled out of the leg restraints to pop up beside the kayak coughing and sputtering.

The rain was coming down even harder now, drumming on the plastic shell beside her, and she kicked her legs to keep her head above water.

But it was getting harder and harder to do so, and it was so...incredibly cold. Another wave splashed up against her and each one was pushing her closer and closer to the rocks. She kicked again, furiously, swallowing another gulp of lake water as the wave pushed against her once more. She sputtered, coughed, and instead of crying, she let out a shout, not a sound of mewling panic, but digging in to find the anger that had fueled so many years of fighting a much more deliberate and malicious killer. This way to die was crude and foolish by comparison, and damnit, she wasn't going to go out this way. She kicked her legs furiously and pushed herself and the kayak closer to the shore.

*

Azrael had just turned Ryder towards home when he heard the shout over the wind. He had been wandering through the woods, barely noticing his surroundings, turned inward on that moment the night before by the tangle of the car around the pine. Over and over, he asked himself why would anyone want to stay if Heaven was so great and good. And if Heaven was not what the dying wanted, why would anyone want to leave?

He thought of Mae, and Jonas, and then Mae again. It was only when the rain had started coming down, gentle at first, followed by sheet after driving sheet that he thought he would need to go back to the log cabin, if only to tell Cain he still didn't have an answer. He had gone out in rain like this before, early on when still getting used to this mortal shell, and he had not liked what happened to the body afterwards at all. The heat and trembling, and worse, the expelling. Why had God created such a horrible amount of suffering over something so trivial as being out when it was wet and cold? He thought it best to not go through what Cain had called "pneumonia" another time. He was just rounding the ridge to a trail back to the cabin when he heard the cry.

At any other time, he would have put the sound aside, but it sounded so desperate and angry that he paused. The sound was coming from not too far off, and in his head, all he could think about was the image of Mae Holland. Mae Susan Holland, and how she turned back to have one more moment on Earth.

He nudged Ryder towards the lake, ducking under the branches as he urged the horse on.

*

Rebecca lost her grip on the nose of the kayak again, slipping under the water and furiously kicking to get back up, but her shoes were so heavy now, and her legs were so tired. Her head managed to break the waterline one more time, but instead of sputtering out another breath she just threw her arms around the capsized boat once more, resting her cheek against the side. She was floating, and floating was fine. She could just close her eyes, just for a second, just to rest a little before fighting once more. She'd be fine. It would be fine.

*

Azrael and Ryder came down along the ridge on the far side of the lake. Through the pines he could see the white belly of a boat drifting with the waves towards the shore. Getting closer, he could see a woman's arm still wrapped around the tapered top of the craft, though it was limp and about to drop off the edge completely.

Soon enough, it would be over. The Angel of Death swung down off his horse and walked to the edge of the water, his head cocked to one side, sensing the life draining out of the body in the water. Time would start to slow for the soul trapped in that body and drowning in the lake. Time would start to move down and down until the end came. It was not his place to question the ways of the world. The boat was turning sideways, taking the body with it, and through the rain, Azrael saw the top of the woman's head, her long red hair loose in the water, and felt...something.

It felt strange, odd and pressing, and though he knew he should stay on the shore—his duty was to carry her soul over to the beyond—he found himself diving right into the icy water and pushing out to grab the woman away from the boat.

It wasn't far from shore and he had managed to grab onto her hand in less than a minute, rolling her over onto her back and splashing with her towards the rocks. Azrael pulled the woman out to lay there on the mud while he gasped for breath, Ryder had moved away to stand under a tree to get out from the rain. Azrael’s body had begun to spasm, and he remembered that from before when he had caught "pneumonia", and knew it was a bad sign. He sat up, and looked at the woman he had pulled out.

Her eyes were closed, her lips a pale shade, almost blue. He had it within him to heal her, but even as he put a hand on her forehead, he paused. Was this the Plan? Was this part of his Father's will? She was small, more than a head shorter than the body he was wearing, and thin and angular under the wet clothes that clung to her. Her head was turned to the side, a strand of her red hair plastered along the side of her throat.

He had very little time to think. Even out of the water she was still drowning, and though he had many times seen how humans would try to save their waterlogged dead by pushing against the chest, he didn't know exactly how it was to be done successfully.

But to use his powers to save her. Was it right? Was it good?

In that moment, she seemed so much like a frail bird cast out of a nest that he stopped wondering about the Plan and his Father's will, and placed his fingertips once more against her forehead. If he were wrong in this, he would explain. But if he needed to save her, the time was now or never.

He closed his eyes. If anyone had been looking out across the lake, they would have seen a gust of wind, a powerful breath across the water as the Angel of Death let his wings unfurl in the rain. Dark and forbidding, they arched over his back before folding in above him and the woman he held. Slowly, he worked the breath of Heaven into her bones. The woman in his arms coughed out a lungful of water, and started breathing once more, though her eyes were still closed. She was spasming, just as he was, and he knew he needed to get her dry and safe soon, or she would start to pass over again.

"Ryder, to me!" he called.

The pale horse was by his side in a moment. Mounting the horse, Azrael lifted the woman up in his arms, and sat her body in the saddle in front of him, folding his arms around her small waist to keep her from falling. He nudged his knees into Ryder's flanks, and they were off, pushing through the underbrush towards the cabin less than an hour away.

Cain was not going to be pleased with this. He wasn’t going to be pleased at all.