Tavi liked the high places at Pine-Crank Iceworks, where the roofs were white with snow and the wind sang around the rails. From the yard below, he could see the hanging cable lines stretched between the sheds, ready to carry tools across the worksite. They swayed a little in the cold, but that was normal.
Then the snow geese came.
They landed all at once on the rooftop rigging, the crisscross of beams and hooks above the buildings. Their feet gripped the ropes, and their long necks dipped and tugged as if the lines were giant noodles made for pulling. The cables began to twist. One gave a sharp twang overhead, and another bobbed lower above the icy walkways.
Brin’s snow-dusted boots skidded to a stop near the rail. He hugged his brass clipboard under one arm and looked up with a tight mouth. “No one goes under that,” he called. “Not until I say it’s safe.”
Tavi leaned forward, green cap tipped against the wind. He could see the workers below slowing down, keeping to the edges of the frozen path. If those lines tangled worse, someone might get hit. He wanted to race up near the rooftop rigging and steady them before that happened.
But Brin was already pointing to the safer stair route along the shed wall, and Tavi could tell he would want every step done the proper way.
Above, another goose yanked hard, and one cable line sank lower over the walkways, swaying where boots had to pass.
What happens next?
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