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The weather was clear and sunny as Sage and Marianne, Greta’s mother, took an easy hike through the forest of old-growth hardwood trees in the Green Mountains. Sage’s hand grazed the rough bark of a majestic sugar maple as she trudged up the trail. She’d arrived over a week before and had been met at the small train station by Marianne and her old man, Trucker, who were members of the Green Mountain Boys MC. After moping around their cabin for a few days, Marianne took her out to see a quaint ski resort town nearby, and now they were hiking through the tall American beeches, yellow birches, and sugar maples of a state park. It was relatively empty despite being the peak of summer tourist season, and the women trailed through the various paths at their leisure.
Arriving a higher elevat
