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You’d think with all the water, and all, a kid would be fairly itching to get wet.

True absolutely refused to join everyone at the river, adamantly insisting that only god knows what could be swimming in there. Didn’t sound like her at all and Danziger wasn’t buying it for a second. Trouble was, he didn’t have a clue what to do about the matter.

It stirred in Danziger a uneasy dread of impending teenagedom, and the many questions he was the wrong gender to answer. He’d done right by her for the last twelve years, but now she was blossoming into a woman and Danziger knew that soon it wouldn’t matter how good a father he was. She’d need a mother.

Except for times like this, when she was acting like a spoiled baby, and he could made do with a swift kick in the rear.

Without another word, he grabbed both his own and True’s hygiene kits with one hand while the other, casually and with startling accuracy, grabbed on to his daughter’s thick braid and gave her a healthy tug.

“Let’s go, True-Girl. You stink to high heaven. You’re takin’ a bath!” As if to show she wasn’t threatened by his close proximity, she yanked her head back, giving herself just as sharp a tug.

The ball was in his court.

“Fine! Act like a baby, get treated like one,” he declared, hoisting True effortlessly over his shoulder in one fluid motion. He staggered to the flap of the tent, unmindful of her fists pounding on his back.



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