The Top of the Mountain

“Come on!” Max whispered urgently, poking his head into his daughter’s bedroom, “We’re not going to get there before the slopes open, at this rate.”

“I’m coming,” Winnie whined. The young girl jammed the last of her things into a small, galaxy print backpack and stuffed it shut. She tugged at the zippers, trying to compress everything she was bringing with her so that it would all squeeze between the bag’s bursting seams. Pausing to huff, she was unable to make the bag close. She sat back and fingered a lock of blonde hair that had slipped from a tight braid and tucked it behind her ear.

Glancing out the window, it was pitch black. The early morning sun was still two hours from cresting the horizon and Winnie was finishing her preparations for a weekend ski trip that her father had planned for just the two of them. They had passes to spend the weekend skiing on Mount Ariel, and her dad had rented a nearby cabin for them to stay at, so they wouldn’t have to make the multi-hour drive to the mountain two days in a row.

Max appeared at the door. “This is why I told you to pack last night,” he nagged, “so I wouldn’t have to yell at you this morning.” Max wasn’t exactly yelling, though. They both spoke and moved as quietly as they could so as not to wake Michelle, the matriarch of the house. Michelle was not a particularly strong snow sports enthusiast and preferred to have a quiet weekend to herself, rather than spend two days on her butt skidding down a mountain in freezing cold temperatures, or sitting bored in the noisy lodge on her phone or in a book while the two of them were off having fun.

Winnie glared. “Daddy, quit picking on me. You’re not helping.”

Max sighed and entered her room. He went to her and pushed down hard on the puff of clothing still spilling from the top of the backpack. “I’m not picking on you, I’m just trying to get you to think ahead once in a while. What do you even have in here?” With her father’s help, Winnie was at last able to get the zippers to finally meet in the middle. “Alright, let’s go.”

Max hated losing his patience with his daughter, but with the tension he felt in dealing with the day-to-day details of working and running a family, Max’s stress was at an all-time high. He was looking forward to getting away from it all for the weekend, and as much as he wanted his little girl to have a good time, he strongly wished that he could just run away from every shred of responsibility he held.

The small girl climbed to her feet. “Wait, I need my phone.”

Her father sighed. “Okay, where is it?”

“It’s on my dresser.” She wandered over to it, her purple snow pants swishing with each step.

“Alright, go get it. Do you want it in the outside pocket?” Max unzipped her bag and Winnie put it in. He took a deep breath and smiled at her. “Okay, ready, Winnie-poo?”

Winnie nodded.

“Great, let’s go.” Together they snuck down the stairs, so as not to wake Mama, and headed out the door.

The cold, winter air rushed over them and, as Max locked the door behind them, Winnie piped up. “Wait! I forgot my jacket?”

Max groaned. “Kiddo, you’re going put me in an early grave.”

Winnie shivered in her purple and teal, long-sleeved, thermal top and looked up at her dad apologetically, “Sorry. I forgot,” she pleaded.

Max rolled his eyes. “I’ll get your stuff loaded in the car. You go get your jacket.”

Winnie slung her backpack at her father and took off back into the house. Max closed the screen door quietly behind her and brought her things to the car, a black SUV that could handle road conditions much harsher than it ever would, and plenty capable of traversing the paved mountain roads, even in wintery conditions. He placed her pack into the back seat, onto a child’s carseat that they had never bothered to remove. What does she have stuffed in here, anyway? Her clothes are so small; it’s not like they take up a lot of room. But, just as with the carseat, once Max had turned his attention to something else, the thought left his mind. In the hatch, he had already packed her skis, his snowboard, and their other gear the previous night. He also brought with them some groceries to make dinner and other meals, so that they wouldn’t need to spend too much money during their trip.

Max stretched and yawned through his bushy brown beard, still waking up from the early morning. He was in good condition, fit—if a little out of shape for the season—and he was glad he had the opportunity to take his kid on a daddy-daughter field trip, just the two of them. Despite his frustrations with his daily grind and his fantasies of running away, he nevertheless truly cherished every moment he could spend with Winnie. They had fun together, often playing games and teasing each other. She was sporty, a bit of a tomboy, and she was as eager to get up onto the mountain as he was. And he was sure his wife, being the more autonomous of the two, would actually enjoy the peace and solitude that the weekend would bring her; it would be a rare break from the day-to-day worries of running a family.

Winnie burst forth from the house, waving her ski jacket. “I have it, Daddy!” she shouted, swinging the front door shut behind her and letting the screen door slam.

So much for peace, Max thought. “Wendy Amelie!” he gasped. “For christ sake, you’ve just woken up your mother, and probably half the block, too.”

Winnie froze and grimaced. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Max scolded, “Kiddo, if you want to do more of these trips, you have to be more considerate of your mother.” Winnie put her head down and sulked to the car. “Come on, get in.” She started to climb in, but Max suddenly stopped her. “Wait. Hold up.”

She looked up into her father’s eyes, a shiver overtaking her as the cold set in. “What, Daddy?”

“Are you sure you have everything now?”

Winnie blushed and thought for a moment, then with a nod said, “Yes.”

“Okay, good. Cuz if you’re missing something, you’re going to have to do without it for the next three days. Okay?”

“Okay,” his daughter turned away, scurrying toward the passenger seat, but he gripped her by a willowy shoulder and pulled her back again. “Daddy, it’s cold!” she whined, her teeth chattering.

“You have your socks?” He looked at her seriously. “Last time you forgot your socks.”

Now it was Winnie’s turn to be antsy. She rolled her eyes, brushing him off. “Yes, Daddy, I have socks! We’re going to be late!” she whined.

With a boost from Max, she clambered into the passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt strap across her chest.

“Alright, here we go!” said Max. They backed out of the driveway and were on their way, stopping only briefly to pick up breakfast from the drive-thru for the road.

Before long, Winnie was curled up in her seat, dozing. She had pulled the chest strap behind her—it never fit her slight body properly, anyway, always rubbing awkwardly against her chin—kicked off her slip-ons, balled up her jacket into a makeshift pillow, and had done whatever else she could to make herself comfortable in the SUV’s large bucket seat. Her fast food wrappers littered the passenger footwell. As they drove on, the sun threatened to begin the day, and the clear, cobalt sky cast its surreal twilight into the vehicle cabin.

Max glanced at his daughter, sleeping peacefully. He smiled at her youthful cuteness; her top lip protruding slightly over her bottom one, the way her nose pointed preciously upward, and hair in sporty blonde braids down either side of her head. Her bare feet were tucked under her petite bottom. He knew she got many of her looks from her mother, but he also saw some of her grandma in her, as well. He had seen photos of his mother-in-law, Jane, from when she had gotten married and was startled to see so many of her elfin features passed down two generations to his girl. Sometimes it seemed to him that she had taken every attractive feature from her mother’s side of the family. Good, he thought, maybe if we ever have a boy, he’ll get all of mine.

In addition to her purple snow pants, Winnie wore a long-sleeved, thermal base layer that was striped in purple, pink, and teal. It wasn’t the height of style, but the bright, clashing colors were appealing to a girl Winnie’s age, and Max liked her carefree lack of pretension about fashion, anyway. Before long, she’d be worrying too much about what her friends thought was cool, rather than what she actually liked.

Suddenly the car rumbled as Max found their SUV veering toward the edge of the highway. He quickly course corrected and scolded himself silently, committing to watching the road and keeping his daughter safe instead of admiring her fledgling beauty while she slept. But the startling sound and vibration were enough to rouse the girl.

She stirred and yawned, her eyes creaking open. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing, darling. I just drifted a little bit.” Max picked up his coffee thermos and popped the lid, assuring her that he wasn’t falling asleep on the road. He took a sip and then held it out to Winnie.

“Blech,” Winnie stuck her tongue out.

Max chuckled. “Some day you’ll see the appeal. When you’re in college and you have to get that final project done, just you wait. You’ll be singing for coffee then.”

“No way,” Winnie croaked tersely with disgust. “It’s yucky. And college is still a long way off.”

“Let’s hope so,” Max chuckled. “I want you to be my baby girl for as long as I can get.”

Winnie rolled her eyes. She hated it when he treated her like a baby, but in her heart it made her happy that her dad cared for her so. Still drowsy and a bit achey from how she slept, she rocked her head back and forth and stretched, pushing out a flat chest with a big groan. Her left arm extended and, mid-stretch, she playfully brushed her fingers against her father’s neck and giggled. He jerked his shoulder up, fending off her tickling.

“Careful, muffin,” he warned with a smirk, “I wouldn’t want to… lose control!” With that, he shuffled the steering wheel lightly back and forth, just enough to shake the car a bit.

Winnie shrieked with delighted fear. “Okay! Okay, Daddy! I’ll be good,” she giggled. Smiling, she shifted her body and leaned her head against the window. She sat silently for a moment, contemplating drifting back to sleep, but the day was brightening, and she found herself getting more and more excited for the approaching mountain.

“How much farther is it?”

“We’ve still got a little less than an hour.” Max looked over at her. “How you doing, Winnie-poo?”

“Good,” she sighed.

“Good.” He made small-talk, “How has school been going?”

“It’s fine,” she yawned.

“What’s your favorite thing you’re learning about?”

“Umm,” Winnie thought for a moment. “In Culture, we have to choose a country and then write a report about it.”

“That’s neat. What country are you going to choose?”

“I was going to choose Germany, but Rosalyn took it, so I chose Brazil instead.”

“Really? Why Brazil?”

“I don’t know. Cuz I heard they have a lot of shark attacks down there,” the young girl snickered.

Max laughed. “That’s a morbid reason to choose a country.”

Winnie shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s cool. Oh, and they also have rain forests.”

“What do you like about rain forests?”

“Umm, they have lots of cool animals like tigers, and panthers, and these really pretty birds. Quetzel…cuddles,” Winnie scrunched up her face trying to pronounce the word, “or something like that.”

“That’s a pretty good reason to like Brazil,” her father encouraged.

Winnie piped up suddenly, “Oh! And did you know that coffee comes from Brazil?”

“Huh. I did not know that,” Max lied. “The only thing I know about Brazil are the nuts and the wax.”

Winnie knitted her brow. “What’s Brazil wax?”

Max opened his mouth to answer, but then recognized that it might not be appropriate to talk to his daughter about the pubic hair waxing method called the Brazilian. “Uh, well, you can ask me again when you’re older.”

“That’s not fair!” Winnie retorted.

“Well, I’m the dad,” Max said, embarrassed that he had even made the joke.

Winnie smirked slyly, “You know I can just look it up on the internet when I get my phone.”

“Do. Not.” Max emphasized, his embarrassment turning to regret. He knew better than to spark her curiosity. “And don’t ask your Culture teacher either. You’ll get in trouble and then I’ll have to bail you out. And I’m not going to take your side.”

Winnie was curious, but she recognized the tone of her father’s voice and she knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere soon, so she dropped the subject. She did, however, have another thing she wanted to know about. She had heard some boys say it and thought her dad would know the answer. But the boys’ conspiratorial tone made her wonder if she wouldn’t get an answer from him either. They drove down the road in silence while she contemplated asking, and when no new conversation opened up, she decided to go for it.

She turned to her father. “What does jill off mean?”

Max was started by the question. It was another avenue of conversation that he instinctively wanted to swerve to avoid, but after a brief moment he steeled himself. He recalled the many conversations he’d had with Michelle about how they were going to teach their daughter about sex. They didn’t want Winnie to be ignorant or ashamed about it like their parents were. They wanted her to trust them enough to come to them with questions, concerns, and fears, and they had agreed to make learning about it as direct and comfortable as possible. Of course, up until that point, neither of them had ever come face to face with the reality of their child taking any interest in sex or boys (or girls, for that matter).

Max finally cleared his throat. “Er, it means to, well, to masturbate.”

“Hmm,” Winnie thought for a moment. Then asked, “How do you master bait?”

Max gave a huff of laughter. He could hear the two words Winnie had repeated. “No, muffin, masturbate. Have they ever taught you about this kind of thing in school yet? Sex ed?”

Winnie giggled and blushed at the mention of sex. “No.”

“Where did you hear that, then? About ‘jilling off’?”

“Some boys in my class said a girl two grades above me ‘jilled off’ in class. And then they laughed. It sounded funny, but I didn’t get it.”

“That is funny.” Max wondered if the story was true. Had a girl been caught masturbating in class? But he assumed it must have just been playground rumors.

“What’s funny about it? What does masturbate mean?” the girl insisted.

Max cleared his throat, feeling odd about his daughter throwing the word around so casually. He searched for how he could explain the concept to her in a way that wouldn’t scar her. “Well, masturbating is like a game that people play with themselves to make them feel good.”

“Like a phone game?”

Max laughed again. “Not exactly, but I suppose you could take it with you wherever you go.”

“What do you mean?”

Winnie wasn’t following his innuendo, so Max cut his losses. “Muffin, masturbating is a way that you can touch your private areas.”

Winnie was quiet and thoughtful for a moment, trying to connect the dots. “And it feels good?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Oh, okay.” Winnie again sat quietly, then blurted out. “I think I masturbated with my hairbrush once.”

Max was startled by his daughter’s candor, but he realized she didn’t fully understand the weight of her words. She was still innocent and had never had any reason to feel shame around her bodily explorations. Nevertheless, he suddenly found himself imagining his daughter pushing a hairbrush handle up inside her. He wasn’t ready for it and before he knew it, he was getting hard. He cursed himself for his impulse, but he tried to save the conversation. “Er, well, that’s okay, Winnie-poo, but you should be careful about what you put in your pussy. You could get an infection.”

Winnie snickered. “Daddy, isn’t ‘pussy’ a naughty word?”

Max grimaced. He hadn’t even realized he said it. “I meant vagina, but I suppose you can say pussy, too. It’s really only naughty if you say it to other boys.”

“Is ‘jill off’ naughty, too? Is that why those boys laughed?”

“Yes, I think it is. You should only jill off, er—I’m just going to call it masturbate. You should only masturbate in private, or with someone you love very much, like Mommy and me.”

“You and mommy jill off?” Winnie asked in wide-eyed wonder.

“Speaking of your mother,” Max continued, deflecting the question, “we’ve been talking about how we’re going to teach you about sex.” Max felt his throat drying up. He was glad that he could face forward and concentrate on the road instead of the expectations that a face-to-face conversation would dictate, like eye-contact. He cleared his throat loudly. “You’re getting to that age where you need to know these things. And, well, sometimes it might be funny, like when boys make jokes about it. Sometimes it might be confusing. And sometimes it might be embarrassing and you won’t want to talk about it with us, but I just want you to know you can talk to us about it. About sex and things. You can ask us anything, and we’ll do our best to teach you and not judge you.”

“I can ask you anything?” Winnie asked in wonder.

Max turned and nodded, a warm smile breaking through his red-faced nervousness.

“Okay, then what’s Brazil wax?” the little girl smirked.

Max turned back to the road with half a smile. “Except that,” he deadpanned.

“Aww, but you said anything,” Winnie teased.

“Fine, anything that’s biological.”

“Then what’s a slut?” Winnie snickered, already having some idea of what the answer was.

Max gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to keep his cool. “Well, a slut is,” he paused to arrange his words, “really, it’s just someone who likes to have sex.”

“That’s not what Gretchen says. She says it’s a girl who has sex with a lot of boys.”

Max sighed. “Well, yes, but girls can have sex with any boy they want. But that doesn’t make them a bad person.”

“So, does that mean I can be a slut?” Winnie challenged mischievously.

Max’s heart skipped a beat, outpaced again by his wily daughter. He suddenly regretted his and Michelle’s commitment to being straightforward with their daughter. Or maybe he just regretted that she wasn’t there to help keep their willful child at bay. She was always more firm with their girl than he was. His daughter was always quick to learn new things and test their limits, and he was sure other parents didn’t have to deal with these same kinds of questions. At least, he figured, his predicament wasn’t as bad as the father of the girl who allegedly jilled off in class.

He swallowed, but doubled down on his intent. “Um, well, yes… you can be a s– slut,” he stammered, “but you should be safe. In fact, I’m putting my foot down. You can’t be a slut until you know how to be safe, okay?”

“Okay,” said Winnie losing interest in her father’s serious reply to her prank.

“Anything else you need to know right now?”

Winnie looked out the window and watched the trees rush by. “Nope. Do you think that the top of Mount Ariel will be open today?”

Thank god, Max said to himself silently, allowing his girl to change the subject. He relaxed visibly. “I dunno, Sweetie. Do you want to go to the top this year?” The pair had yet to ever ride down from the summit of the mountain, and it was often closed due to bad weather and other unfavorable conditions.

“I don’t know,” Winnie said staring pensively at the road. “It’s kind of scary. But,” she turned to her dad, “I don’t want to do any green triangles this year. Those lines are for little kids.”

“What?” Max feigned offense, “I suppose you’re not my baby girl anymore, after all, huh?”

“Nope,” Winnie said again, wearing a matter-of-fact smile.

“Okay, well, no green triangles today for my grown-up girl, I guess.” The rest of the trip consisted of casual conversation and bouts of sleepy silence as the car continued ever higher in elevation. Max yawned to pop his ears, focused on the road, but in the back of his mind, rested the thought of Winnie and her hairbrush. He wondered if it was just curious bodily explorations or if she had managed to truly jill off and experience an orgasm.

The sun finally crept over the horizon and dazzled the two travelers, glinting cheerily off the wintery landscape. Snow-layered trees with saggy boughs and thick banks of plow-carved embankments ushered them toward the Mount Ariel Ski Resort.

Soon they were parked. “We’re here!” exclaimed Max, getting out and stretching his back and arms. The sun was already warming up the day, though their breath still hung in the air. In his pants, he felt the cool dab of precum that had squeezed out during the sex ed conversation with his daughter. He was a little bit taken aback that it had struck such a nerve with him, but of course, she was naive and could never have known how she had affected him.

“Hooray!” Winnie shouted, hopping down and bouncing off of the SUV’s running board and onto the crackling ice stretching out in thin layers across the parking lot. She stretched her legs with a groan and wandered to the back hatch, snow pants swishing, to get out her skis. “What are we waiting for?” she asked as soon as they were in her arms.

“For you to get your things, Dumdum.” Max opened the back door and pulled her bag off the car seat.

Winnie grimaced abashedly. “Oh yeah.”

“Winnie-poo, I swear. You’d forget your own name if it wasn’t written on the band of your underwear.”

Winnie was confused. “My name isn’t written on my pannies.”

Max shook his head. “Nevermind, it was an expression.”

While lines of folks wound through the lodge waiting for the rental counter to open, Max purchased their weekend passes at an electronic kiosk. Winnie slung her backpack onto a bench and went about changing from her sneakers into her heavy ski boots. From her bag, she pulled her kit: goggles, neck gaiter, gloves, scarf, mid-layer jacket, and a round helmet, which filled out the rest of the bag considerably. She traded their places with her shoes. Her bag, now largely empty, slumped limply on the bench.

Max shook his head. “No wonder you couldn’t get your bag closed, you packed your helmet in it. You know you can carry it in your hands, right?”

Winnie shrugged, “Well, it fit, so I didn’t have to, anyway.”

Before long, they were trudging out into the whiteness of the snowy mountain.

“Look at this, we’re second in line,” Max marveled. “This is why we had to get up so early. We’re going to be the first ones down the mountain today.”

“Second,” Winnie corrected.

Max stuck his tongue out at her and she returned the gesture with a kidding scowl. A small gust of wind rushed suddenly, whipping up soft powder from the ground, and the snow glistened in the air. Winnie dodged her head around, trying to catch a flake or two on her tongue. Max laughed as she waggled it around.

The next chair came around and scooped them up and they were off to their first drop-off. Once they had cleared the platform, Max took in a deep breath of fresh, mountain air. He was happy to have this time with his daughter. He was a good father, often involved in her pursuits. It helped that she was sporty and her hobbies were evolving toward things he liked to do. Even so, he felt like most of their day-to-day was filled with the stresses of work, cooking, ensuring homework was completed, and other well-meaning parental expectations. It wasn’t often they could relax together, like friends. “I think today’s going to be a good day,” he remarked.

“Best day ever,” said Winnie leaning over the security bar and staring down at the smooth snowfields below them.

“I hope so,” chuckled Max.

After they unloaded at the top, they skidded out of the way of the following lift passengers. Max asked, “Which way do you want to go first?”

“Up,” said Winnie, sliding toward the next lift.

“You don’t want to do any of these runs?”

Winnie twisted, skidding her skis into the snow and kicking up a spray of powder. “No. No greens, remember?”

Max caught up with her. “Ah, right. Big girl runs only, today.”

Just then, a clatter came from behind them. The two turned toward the commotion and saw a pile-up of skiers at the lift. One of them had crashed into the other while disembarking and somehow took all four passengers down. Winnie snorted and giggled. “OMG.”

“Now, now, Winnie, don’t laugh. You wouldn’t like it if someone laughed at you if you fell.”

“I’m not going to fall today, Daddy,” she said matter-of-factly before shoving off to the next lift.

“Well, okay then,” Max said, mostly to himself, “No falls today.” In his mind he hoped that her declaration would hold true.

On the back side of the mountain, after the second lift had dropped them off, Winnie quickly scanned the available runs. A nod indicated that she was satisfied with her options. They surveyed the routes, each one of them untouched that day, except by a few lines where staffers and CAT tracks had done their regular inspections for safety hazards.

“Well, Pooh-bear? What are we going to do.”

Winnie pushed off and glided toward her chosen route: High and Fly. She stared down the steep mountainside and before Max could ask if she was ready, the small girl was descending with a shriek of glee.

“Winnie, wait!” Max called after her, but it was too late. The brave young girl was already speeding away, a downy lump of synthetic fabric capped off with a shiny, round helmet. Wrapped in all of her snow gear, Max may not have been able to recognize her, perhaps except for her blonde braids flying on the wind behind her. But whether he could see her or not, he could still pick her out of a crowd based on her energy alone. When she was ready for something, she had an essence that was distinctly her own. She was fearless and confident, yet limber and effervescent. Among her school friends, Winnie was often the instigator of antics, if not the leader, and was always the life of the party.

Max’s heart leapt seeing his daughter suddenly off, taking charge of her own destiny. It happened every time she tried something new for the first time. Though she was skilled in the sport, he always worried that she would get hurt, either by something he didn’t notice, or something he could never have foreseen. But she never did. Once she had gotten her ski-legs on the bunny hill, his little girl had quickly gained confidence in her movements. As she progressed onto the harder tracks, she would still occasionally take a tumble—if she hit bad snow or unexpected debris, or someone else’s unpredictable kid cut her off suddenly—but the girl was tough, never cried, and never let it discourage her from trying again.

With a breath, Max pushed himself over the edge and followed Winnie down the mountainside, back toward the lift. He rarely took his eyes off of her, except when she turned around a corner or they carved the slope in opposite directions. Her movements, though still rudimentary, were like poetry to him as they both drew their distinct lines in the powder together with, at least for the moment, nobody else around.

The raw, primal feeling of being alone with his daughter amidst the brutal landscape was invigorating and much needed. Max’s day-to-day desk job was stressful, yet lifeless. He spent hours in front of his computer writing code and developing logical data models for a large tech conglomerate. He had worked there for more years than Winnie had in her life, and while the pay was good, none of the projects he ever worked on felt fulfilling, nor were they at all glamorous. None of it was the kind of thing that CEOs give keynote speeches about on vast stages in front of the media.

On the mountain, Max laughed. Out here, he was a survivor. The bitter wind whipped at his cheeks, forbidding cliffs loomed over him, and trees whizzed by at dangerous speed. His laugh transformed into call; a loud, bestial bellow. His voice carried down the mountain.

When the sound reached her, Winnie kicked up a cloud of fresh powder and skidded to a halt in the middle of the run. She tugged her face mask down. “What are you doing?” she asked with cautious skepticism.

Max, too, stopped himself and his call died into a self-conscious chuckle. “I didn’t mean to alarm you, Winnie-poo. I was just shouting.”

Underneath her goggles, the girl cocked an eyebrow up. “Why?”

Max huffed. “I guess I was sending a message to the mountain.”

“What were you saying?”

“Well,” Max paused, unsure of the answer himself. “I guess I was saying, this is my mountain. And I just wanted all the creatures upon it to know.”

Winnie became excited with jealousy, “Awh, I want a mountain, too!”

“Well this one’s mine. You can’t have it,” Max chuckled.

“I can if I scream louder than you,” Winnie challenged with a grin.

“Oh, is that so?” Max crossed his arms.

“It is,” the diminutive girl said matter-of-factly. Flashing a smirk, she broke into a shrill, high-pitched scream.

Max covered his ears.

Winnie giggled. “See? It’s my mountain now.”

Max shouted again at the top of his lungs, “No, it’s my mountain!”

“No, it’s my mountain!” Winnie squealed in high-pitched opposition.

“Okay, okay,” Max conceded self-consciously. Mostly, he didn’t want her calling unneeded attention from a rescue crew who might be listening for screams for help. “Tell you what, kiddo, you can have this mountain if you can make it all the way down to the bottom.”

“I’ll beat you there,” Winnie challenged, preparing to descend once again.

“No, Pooh-bear, from the top, I mean.” Max pointed toward the mountaintop.

Winnie paused. “From the tippy top?”

Max could sense her eyes widening behind her goggles. “From the summit,” he nodded. “What do you say? Are we going to do it today?”

“Yeah!” Winnie shouted. However, her confident voice belied her nerves. She had never been all the way up the summit. It was very steep, the snow was deep, and the face of the mountain was completely exposed to the whipping wind and snow. She craned her neck up in its direction, but a layer of clouds had nestled themselves around the top. Her heart beat at the thought of tackling such a challenge. “But not right now,” she spoke quietly. “Is that okay, Daddy?”

“Yes, Muffin, of course. We’ll do it whenever you’re ready.”

The two finished their first run of the day in silence. When they got back to the lift, Max asked, “First one’s down, kiddo. How you feeling?”

“Great!” Winnie grinned, then added. “I love you, Daddy.”

Max’s heart swelled and he felt a strange urge to lean in and kiss his daughter. Had he no mind about it, whatsoever, he might have even dared to kiss her square on the lips. But he quickly tamped that strange thought down and wrapped an arm around her instead, pulling her as close as he could.

“Daddyyy,” she giggled, flailing slightly, “you’re making me off balance!”

The rest of the morning went just as smoothly as their trailblazing first trip down the mountain. Run after run, Max and his daughter cut their way through the snow, occasionally daring to do quick little tricks—ramping off small bumps or weaving through the trees along the borders—as they gained confidence in their legs. After their initial lone foray, the slopes had quickly filled up with hot doggers, weekend warriors, and first-time snow sports enthusiasts alike.

After the morning wore on toward midday, father and daughter found themselves back at the lodge, hungry and ready for lunch. It was technically still early, but the two had gotten up so early that their tummies were telling them it was time to eat, and Max knew that while the inside was bustling now, it was not as busy as the noon hour soon would be.

Max set their tray of food down at the table they had snagged: for him, a double-cheeseburger and a beer; for her, a juice drink and a single hamburger—double pickles, no mustard—and between the two, a huge boat of fries. Winnie dove in, cramming a French fry into her face with a growl. While Max was going into debt for the lodge food, Winnie had shed her marshmallowy outer layers along with her ski boots and socks. He sat and watched her eat, and listened to her talk about a funny TV show she had seen. He took a big swill of his beer and once again admired his pretty progeny. Her cheeks glowed red from the lashing they were taking in the downhill wind, combined with the generous warmth of the lodge, and she had stripped down to her thermal base layer to keep her temperature regulated indoors. Her hair was messed and tangled in places, and her braids were beginning to fall apart in strands. Her skin had the patina of dirt and sweat from the day’s exertions. Altogether, it caused a devious thought to creep into his mind: if he could have described her appearance succinctly, it would have been “fresh-fucked.” It was not unlike the way his wife looked after an hour of love-making. Only, of course, Winnie was not his wife, she was their child.

Winnie suddenly crossed her eyes and made a funny face. “Daddy, are you even listening to me?”

Max shook his head, banishing the crude thought he had just had about his own daughter. “Sorry, honey, I guess this noisy lodge is making me a little distracted. But yes, I’m listening.”

They continued to eat and banter.

“So are you having fun today, Pooh-bear?”

Winnie nodded, “Uh-huh, but I wish it was sunnier out.”

“What, you don’t like all this fresh pow-pow?”

Winnie giggled, “Yes, I like the pow-pow, Daddy, but the clouds are blocking the top. I can’t see it!”

“Are you nervous about going up to the summit?”

Winnie nodded.

“It’s okay, baby girl, we don’t have to do it today. I know it can be scary, and I was just teasing you earlier.”

Winnie nodded again and then said matter-of-factly, “It’s too cold, too.”

“Yep, some sun would warm us up,” Max agreed.

Warmth brought another thought to Winnie’s mind. “Daddy, does our cabin have a hot tub?”

Max chuckled, “No, Winnie-poo, I don’t think it has a hot tub.”

“Aw, man,” the young girl whined, “you never get ones with a hot tub.”

Max took a big bite of his burger. “Tell you what, Win, when you get a job, I’ll let you kick in the premium for a hot tub rental, okay?”

Winnie rolled her eyes and groaned, picking at the remains of her hamburger bun. Suddenly she looked up at him again, eyes sparkling and asked, “Daddy, what’s Brazil wax?” The girl grinned widely.

Max grimaced. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“I”m older now,” Winnie piped up.

“No you’re not,” he chuckled.

“Yes I am. I’m a second older than I was when I asked the question. And now I’m another second older. And now I’m another second.” Winnie repeated it until she knew she had won the battle of wits with her father and her words devolved into maniacal giggling.

Even so, Max was still not willing to divulge the adult-oriented information to his daughter. “Gee, I think I’m ready to get back on the mountain,” he ribbed. “Get your things back on.”

“You’re mean,” the girl pouted.

“No I’m not. I’m fun and you know it.”

Winnie sighed and silently agreed.

Outside, the sun threatened to peek through the clouds here and there. As she locked her skis onto her boots, Winnie piped up. “I think the sun’s coming out.”

Max looked up. “Yeah, I think you might be right, kiddo.”

“We should wait some more and see if it does,” Winnie declared, still unsure about whether she would rise to her father’s mountain-topping challenge.

“Okay, let’s wait,” Max agreed.

Two more hours passed and the clouds hadn’t thinned any further. The ski lift was transporting its two passengers up from the bottom of the slopes once again. Max checked his phone and noted the time. The afternoon was wearing on and he knew that they would soon have to make a decision on the summit. Max considered the challenge he had given his daughter. He had never been to Mt. Ariel’s summit, but to him, it made no difference whether they made it up to the top or not. Mostly, he wanted to push his daughter to expand her experiences and maybe check off the next thing on her list.

“Winnie, I don’t think we’re going to get any more sun than this today, unfortunately.”

“Yeah,” she replied, not grasping his full intent.

He continued, “If we’re going to ski down from the summit, remember it takes about half an hour to take all three lifts to get up there.”

“Okay.”

“So, what I’m saying is, if we’re going to do this, we have to commit to it now. But no pressure. We’ll only do it if you’re ready, okay?” He smiled, “I was only kidding about it being my mountain. We can share it.”

“I know,” Winnie said.

Max didn’t want to push the subject, and the two of them sat in silence until Winnie gripped her ski poles and he heard her quietly say, “This mountain will be mine.” He nodded and slumped back in the chair. She was ready.

When they unloaded from the first ski lift, Winnie didn’t even slow down, and slid straight toward the next lift going to the back side of the mountain, where they could catch the third and final lift up to the summit. Max knew in that moment that even if he himself were to chicken out and insist they stay where they were, Winnie was going to go for the top no matter what. She had it in her head and nothing would change her mind.

And so up they went. At the final lift, a sign warned them about the hazards of proceeding, that the mountain was dangerous, even on the best of days; and the best of days it was not. The warning was heeded, but disregarded. Once they were on their way, Winnie was mostly quiet, a tell that her father recognized as the small girl being nervous about something. Even so, he knew she was not going to back down; perhaps she was calculating her next moves. The pair sat and waited as their chair rumbled past pole after pole. Higher and higher, small snowflakes fluttered by their faces. Winnie’s teeth chattered, partly based on the cold of the high elevation, and partly due to nerves.

Soon the few ragged trees fighting for existence gave up, leaving only rock and snow in front of them. All sign of life was depleted. Nothing remained to block the wind, save the face of the mountain itself. It whipped at them, stealing what little warmth remained in their boots and gloves. It slung icy flakes of snow at their exposed cheeks, and it froze the breath from their lungs. On Max, the visible vapor caught on his beard and mustache and formed into crunchy icicles.

The man winced, but chuckled, too. “We’re really doing it, Win.”

Winnie giggled as well. It burbled up from just a hint of confidence, the first crack showing in her steely nerves. No matter what, ready or not, they would have to get back down the mountain. “We must be crazy,” she shouted over the howling wind.

“You’re the crazy one. This was your call.”

“And you’re crazy for following me!” Winnie retorted.

At last the massive wall of mountain gave way to the ubiquitous gray clouds that had settled around the mountain peak. They disembarked from the chair as it dropped them off at the highest point in all the region.

“This is nuts!” Winnie gasped. She twisted her body around, taking in the landscape around her. On a good day, she might have been able to see for miles in any direction, but as it was, she could barely make out any changes in the snowfield. It was white, white, white, all around, peppered with the occasional looming outcropping of rock. She almost couldn’t tell which way was the right way down, except for the slow trickle of other brave snow sport enthusiasts being deposited in drips and drops at the top of the world.

Max watched the others around him to get a feel. Around half of those who made it up tittered nervously between themselves, wondering if they had made the right call. The other half, boasting enough confidence and enthusiasm, must have been either highly experienced skiers and snowboarders, or highly stupid by Max’s reckoning. Winnie was by far the youngest person up there.

Max, too, couldn’t help but wonder if he had encouraged Winnie to push herself too far. He looked at the tiny shack where the lift operator sat and the thought crossed his mind that maybe he could beg or bribe the young man to let them ride a chair back down to safety. But that thought was suddenly banished when he heard his daughter’s shrill voice cutting through the chaos of the wind.

“Daddy, what are we waiting for?”

“Nothing, Pooh-bear, I’m right behind you.”

Winnie lined up at the precipice of the mountaintop, alongside the scant others around them dredging up enough courage to take the plunge. Her head rushed at the task in front of her. She watched a handful of others nearby make the first drop, then turned once more to make sure her father was watching. He gave a thumbs up and Winnie knew that if she waited any longer she was going to psych herself out. She exhaled and calmly pushed off.

Max’s heart plunged at the same speed as Winnie. He watched her for mere moments before he, too, slid down the peak’s steep descent, leaving a whoosh of spinning snowflakes behind him. His eyes never left her position, even as they weaved back and forth. In his darkest thoughts, he was not going to be responsible for his daughter’s untimely death. But Max almost needn’t have worried. Winnie sped down the mountain with relative ease. There were speckled moments of tension in areas where her speed outclassed her grace, but bit by bit they were making their way down. Other adrenaline junkies on snowboards hooted and hollered, speeding by, and Max wondered if they were the confident ones or the stupid ones.

Soon they approached the lower, less extreme elevations and the mountain’s grade decreased several degrees. With the hardest part behind them, the feelings of terror and dread they had fought to control gave way to the full-body rush of excitement and elation. Here and there, Winnie began to see pathetic trees fighting against the extreme terrain, giving her the first hints of life beyond the suicidal band who dared to attempt the summit. Like those trees, she felt like a real survivor, and a sense of pride swelled up inside of her. She had done it; she had gone to the top and made it back down, back to life. Back to warmth.

The small girl flung her hands in the air and craned her neck up to the sky, letting out a high-pitched howl of satisfaction. Max chuckled, watching his daughter’s steely nerves melt into effervescent joy. The little girl bobbed and wove through the snow, once again taking pleasure in her sport, and Max finally felt like he, himself, could relax. He aimed his board toward small jumps and zigzagged to and fro.

Winnie whipped through enclosing trees, hunting for the marked ski trail that would take them back down to the lodge. She followed the crowds of other athletes until she at last saw a sign in the distance. Still speeding along at a fast clip, she turned to signal to her father, but couldn’t find him. She turned the other direction and saw a group of snowboarders, but still couldn’t pick her dad out from among them.

Suddenly, she was gripped with an uncontrollable panic. “Daddy?” she called out. She had lost him.

Her head whipped around in every direction trying desperately to find her father, but her mind was quick to play tricks on her. Just like that, she jumped to the worst conclusions, that he had fallen somewhere without her noticing. That she would never see him again. That he was dead. Her brain immediately flashed to her inevitable future: lost in the snow for days, walking the miles back to civilization, attending her father’s funeral, and her future life without him to guide her.

In that moment, she lost control of her skis and before she knew it, her body was jostled into the air, white-hot pain raking across her left leg. She screamed, unsure for long moments what direction was up and what was down. Then she impacted into the snow. Her skis broke away from her bindings and snow poured into the top of her jacket, pressing its harsh, icy coldness against her body. She tumbled for several moments, flailing her hands, trying to grasp anything that would stop her descent. Finally, friction brought her to a stop, face down in the snow. She wailed.

Despite her worry, Max had never been far from her and saw the whole thing unfold. When she had panicked and lost control, her skis sent her toward a young fir sapling. Each ski chose to go toward different sides of the trunk and the small tree crotched the poor girl as she had no choice but to go over the top of it. The blow sent her off balance and tumbling through the air. He winced, feeling deep pangs of sympathy pain in his own limbs. Immediately he raced to her side, calling her name. “Are you okay?”

Winnie continued to bawl in a manner Max had not seen in a long time. “My leg! My leg!”

Worried, Max rolled the girl onto her back and checked her out. Sure enough, there was a large tear in the leg of her snow pants, starting around her crotch and working its way up across her hip. Max peered into the hole and brushed as much snow out has he could. He saw the bare flesh of her inner thigh. It was red, sure to bruise, but miraculously, she wasn’t bleeding.

“I think you’re going to be okay, baby,” Max assured her. The girl snuffled, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve, and looked into the hole in her pants.

That’s when Max noticed something else: Winnie’s panties were also exposed to the freezing air, showing the printed graphics of her favorite superhero, Wonder Fury. He frowned. “Win, where are your leggings?”

Once again overwhelmed with the situation, Winnie’s only response was to immediately resume her yowling.

Her father briefly wondered at the machinations of her young mind, but shook his head in frustration. The situation was spiraling and he had just made it worse. “Oh, for christ sake, it doesn’t matter right now.” He pulled the girl up, despite her pathetic moans and protests, and he set her gingerly onto her feet. “How does it feel? Can you walk?”

Winnie settled down a bit, not wanting to try her father’s patience any more. She tested her weight. Despite the searing feeling in her left thigh, she seemed to be okay. “My leg hurts real bad, but nothing’s broken,” she concluded, sniffling.

Max was relieved. “Well that’s a start. Does anything else hurt?”

Winnie sniffled again and unzipped her coat, shaking out as much snow as she could. She swallowed the tears in her throat. “Um, no, I guess not. Not really.” The miserable young girl was upset and frustrated, and in that moment she decided she had had enough of skiing for the day. “I wanna go home, Daddy,” she mewled.

Max’s heart sank. He had spent a lot of time and money on their two-day ski trip, and now it was in danger of being cancelled before day one was over. Even so, he felt empathy for his daughter. “Yeah, I don’t think we should be out here much longer with that rip in your pants and your legs exposed.” Max looked around, taking stock of the situation. They weren’t even half-way down the mountain, and his daughter was in no condition to get back on her skis. He watched as she limped her way through the deep snow to gather her dispersed equipment. He was angry, but knew it wasn’t his daughter’s fault for her predicament. Accidents happen, and there’s often nothing one can do, but stand up and take the lead. He resigned himself to the task ahead, knowing it was going to be a trudge. Once they had everything tied together, he said, “Here, kiddo, get on my back.”

Winnie climbed up onto his shoulders, dragging her skis behind them on a rope, while Max carried both her and his snowboard down the mountain. She gripped on tight, laying her head on her father and cinching her legs around his waist. She wallowed in her misery, but even through it all, she liked that she could be close to her daddy. She was ashamed that she botched their ski trip so badly, but thankful that he had been there to bail her out. She listened to his breathing as he exerted himself to bring her to safety and became mesmerized by its cadence. Her body slackened and she slipped.

Max stopped and hoisted her back up toward his shoulders, jarring her out of her hypnosis. “Come on, Pooh-bear.”

“What?”

“Either hold on tight or lose some weight.”

Winnie was already a little below the average weight for a girl her age, and she knew that weight loss wasn’t likely to happen as she matured, even if she went on a hundred diets. “Daddy, you’re mean.”

Max sighed. “Sorry, baby girl.”

After fifteen minutes of watching skiers and snowboarders whooshing past them while they trudged toward the base, an approaching snowmobile hailed them.

“Are you folks okay?” the operator shouted over the din of the engine.

“We had a bit of a rumble with a tree higher up there,” Max answered.

“Do you need a lift to the lodge?” the boy offered.

Max was elated. “That would make my day, young sir,” he admitted.

Winnie slid off her father’s back, landing on her feet. “Oooh,” she complained.

The snowmobile driver noticed and asked, “Are you okay? Do you need someone to check you out?”

“No, I think I’m okay,” Winnie answered.

“Actually,” Max interrupted, “I’m a little concerned she cracked a leg or something. Do you know how to diagnose that?”

“We all know basic first aid out here, sir,” the boy said, dismounting. “I can take a look.”

Winnie plopped herself in the snow and the aid came around to her. “What’s your name, Miss?”

“Wendy.”

“Wendy. Like the restaurant?” The boy smiled at her.

Winnie demurely returned it. “No, like from Peter Pan.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. But you know, it’s too bad, because my name is McDonald!”

Winnie’s eyes lit up, “Really?”

“No, not really. That was just a joke,” McDonald chuckled. The small girl blushed but a broader smile broke through. He continued, “So where’s it hurt, Wendy?”

“Up here,” said the girl, pulling apart the tear in her snow pants.

“Wow, Wonder Fury undies!” McDonald said, immediately noticing the little girl’s panties. Max raised an eyebrow incredulously, but said nothing. “Is she your favorite?”

Winnie nodded.

“That’s great!” he said enthusiastically. “She’s my favorite, too. Hey, did you know that the women’s Olympic ski team wears uniforms inspired by Wonder Fury?”

“Uh huh,” Winnie nodded. “That’s why I wore them today,” she informed the boy. Max was put at ease when he realized McDonald wasn’t flirting with his daughter, but just trying to cheer her up.

The boy moved his face in and looked closer at her injury. “Wow, that’s quite a stripe! Yeah, I can tell that’s going to leave a mark.”

Then he looked her in the eyes, “Can I touch it and see if you feel any pain?” The girl nodded, trustfully. Max felt a surge of protectiveness as he watched the boy take off his gloves and reach in and feel around her upper and inner thigh, but let the resort employee do his thing. The boy felt the bruising area where she had connected with the tree.

Winnie winced at the pain at first, saying, “Ow!” But after the initial shock of contact, the boy’s hands felt somewhat relieving. Her battered hip and thigh muscles had stiffened up quickly, and having some pressure against them made her feel better. “It hurts a little bit, but rubbing it helps,” she said.

“You might need a little bit of massage around the area,” the boy winked at her.

Max cleared his throat. “Let’s take care of that later,” he insisted.

The boy then moved on. “Now let’s see if anything is broken.” He took his hands out of her snow pants and set about putting pressure against various points in her legs. “Does this hurt?”

“No.”

“Does this hurt?”

“No.”

After a few back-and-forths, the park attendant stood up and said, “Looks like nothing’s broken, but she’s got a nasty bruise developing where her hip meets her leg. You’ll see it when you look.”

“Thanks for your opinion, sir. That makes me feel better. And that lift you offered?”

“For sure, dude, hop on the back and I’ll take you down. Leave your gear and I’ll radio someone to come grab it and meet us down there.”

Max was grateful for the break. Carrying his daughter and all their stuff was straining his remaining patience, along with his muscles. He loaded Winnie onto the back of the snowmobile and wedged himself behind her.

Winnie felt squished between the two larger men, but she also felt the welcome security of being held tightly by her father the rest of the way down.

Max wrapped his arms securely around his daughter. He told himself it was because he didn’t want her to fall off, but a covetous thought in the back of his mind felt shame that he had handled his daughter’s accident so poorly, and that a ski patrol kid had easily managed to make her smile. He wrapped his arms around her and held his hand close to her injured hip.

“Daddy, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to cover up the hole in your pants. I don’t want you to get frostbite on the way down.”

Winnie didn’t want to get frostbite either, and moved her father’s hand so it slipped into the hole of her pant leg. She gasped as his cold fingers brushed her sensitive skin. Max was astonished at the warmth of the connection between their skin, as well as a sense of shameful curiosity about where his hand was positioned. It had been a long time since his hands were anywhere near his daughter’s private areas, perhaps even as far back as the last time he had to change her diapers. Even so, this was his daughter, the girl whom had gotten his hackles up when a stranger touched her in the same spot. He was merely looking after her, he told himself.

The staff from the ski lodge sped things along and soon father and daughter were driving away from the slopes with a couple of free lift tickets for them to use during the coming season.

“How you feeling, baby?” Max asked after a few minutes on the interstate.

“I’m okay,” the young girl yawned, the hum of the road fogging her tired brain.

Max tried to be even-keeled, despite the disaster that had befallen their vacation. “We’ve had quite a day, haven’t we? I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“It’s okay,” Winnie nodded drowsily. “Daddy?”

“Yes, Pooh-bear?”

“I had fun today.”

Somehow, that notion made it all worth it for Max. Winnie’s good will lifted his spirits, and reminded him of why he loved her so much. Why he had always loved her.

The young girl drifted off to sleep in the bucket seat of the SUV once again, and Max took advantage of his moment of privacy to inhale the scent that was left behind on his hand; the hand that had been holding onto Winnie’s leg, and perhaps more, while they were chauffeured to the lodge by snowmobile. It was faint, but it was there. A mix of sweat and salt and, what else? A somehow familiar girlish perfume.

Max put both hands back on the wheel and thought to himself, “I’m going to hell for that alone.”

———

After half an hour, Max pulled into the driveway of their rented cabin. Towers of snow ushered them onto a recently shoveled patch of concrete. Shaggy trees with sagging boughs of snow loomed over them. The sun was threatening to retreat, and a glowing lantern lit the way up a not-so-recently shoveled walkway.

Winnie woke with a start when Max killed the engine.

“We’re here,” he said matter-of-factly.

“We’re home?” she blinked her eyes groggily.

“Nope, we’re going home in a couple nights, remember?”

“Oh, we’re still going to stay at the cabin?”

“Well, of course, muffin.” Max reached over to pet his daughter’s hair. “First off, it’s too late to get a refund on the cabin, but also, we’ll see how your leg is feeling tomorrow, and maybe we can go skiing again. And if not, we’ll go shopping. How does that sound?”

Winnie liked it. In fact, she so loved going to malls that she thought about faking the pain in her leg so that she could go do that instead. “Yay!” she cheered, and stamped her feet. Her bruised thigh screamed in her brain and she winced in pain. Maybe I won’t be faking it, after all, she thought.

Max found the lock box by the side of the house and input the code he was given in the check-in email. He swung the door open and headed back for the car. “I’m going to get the food out of the car, so I can get dinner started. Go pick a bed and turn on some of the lights.”

Winnie in her snow pants swished past her dad, entered the cabin, and flicked the nearest switch she could find. The room lit up, revealing a rustic, open floor-plan abode. The walls were made of exposed timber, while rusty found objects and rural paintings made up the decor. The furnishings were sparse, but cozy. On the floor was a white sheepskin rug, and against the far wall was a wood stove. Winnie found a bedroom and tossed her limp backpack and helmet onto the bed before continuing her exploration of their home away from home. She swished her way into the kitchen area, and peered out the back window. She squinted at a peculiar wooden fence surrounding a large cubic volume of some sort, which was nestled in large drifts of snow. An apparent lid placed on top of it seemed to be letting out a bit of steam. The girl’s heart leapt.

Max stomped his feet in the entryway, shaking off the snow he had collected on his boots. In his arms were two large paper grocery sacks with their food.

“Omigod, Daddy,” Winnie shrieked, piercing her father’s eardrums, before tearing off toward the back door, nearly tripping on her baggy snow pants.

Max carried the sacks to the kitchen counter and looked out the window after his daughter. He saw her run up to the structure and attempt to lift the heavy lid from on top of it. “Well I’ll be damned,” Max mused, “A hot tub.”

Winnie’s struggle eased as her much larger father met her outside and flung the massive lid back, folding it on top of itself. Steam-formed icicles shattered from the sides and crunched between the layers of the insulated lid. “You got us a hot tub!” Winnie shrieked.

Max hadn’t, and concluded, “I guess they must have left it off the listing when I rented it.”

Winnie thought he meant that it was off limits and pleaded, “Aww, can we use it?”

“Not right now, honey. I’ve got to get dinner going. But we’ll have a soak afterwards. I bet it’ll be good for your leg.”

“Yesss,” hissed his shivering daughter, before shooting off back into the house.

Max tapped the buttons to raise the temperature and re-covered the tub so that the freezing mountain air didn’t take any more heat off the water.

Inside, he set about making dinner, chopping up carrots and celery and bringing a soup base to boil. Winnie had cast off most of her gear, leaving her in her long-sleeved base layer, snow pants, and a thicker pair of wool socks. She continued to explore the nooks and crannies of the small cabin, finding bits and bobs in every corner.

“Look, they have games,” she said, pointing to a shelf stacked with beat-up boxes.

Max looked up and noticed his daughter shiver again and said, “Hey, get us a fire going in the wood stove, Pooh-bear. This place is kind of off-grid, so there’s no heat beyond what we make for ourselves.”

Winnie swished loudly back and forth in her snow pants, gathering up wood from the store, newspaper kindling, and the accompanying iron tools, then began looking for something. “Daddy, I need a match or a clicky thing.”

“Keep looking, Win, Daddy’s busy right now.”

Winnie swished some more, searching everywhere in the main room she could reach and turned up nothing. She swished into the bedroom and looked around there, but no matches were there either. As a last resort, she checked the bathroom, but sure enough, nothing to start a fire was present there. The only place left to check was the kitchen. She swished by her father and opened the cabinets one-by-one.

Max was tired and hungry and could feel himself getting irritated with his daughter’s roaming, swishing, banging doors, and getting in the way. He tried to put her out of his mind, but every time she slammed another cabinet shut, his hackles raised. Still, he kept his cool and concentrated on finishing the stew he was preparing. Once all of the meat and veggies had been prepped and tossed into the pot, Max collected the scraps and turned to bring them to the trash. In doing so, he nearly tripped over the ornery young girl.

“Wendy, come on, what are you doing?”

“I’m looking for a clicky thing!” she said defensively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said pointedly.

“The thing that goes ‘cli-click’ to light a fire!”

Max sighed and stomped around his daughter, tossing the scraps into the bin. Then, one-by-one, he swung each lower cabinet open and slammed it shut.

“I already checked those.” Winnie said, trying to be helpful.

“Well, which ones haven’t you checked yet?” Max griped.

“Those ones up there.” She pointed to the top-most cabinets. “I couldn’t reach them.”

Finally, Max found the candle lighter, up in a high cabinet, in a basket along with a collection of candles. “Here,” he crudely handed the basket to his child. “Now don’t bother me again until I’m done in here.”

Winnie gulped a thank you and retreated.

“And get changed out of your snow pants. The ’swish-swishing’ is really bothering me. And besides that, I don’t want you catching fire.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Winnie acknowledged meekly.

Max sighed to himself. He didn’t want his daughter to feel like a bother. He had lost his cool again. For all the pride he had in her, he also knew that his daughter deserved more patience from him. She was so small and he so often chose the intimidating brute routine over the caring mentor. He chided himself for not being the father that he wanted to be for her.

Winnie put the basket of candles and things on a low coffee table in front of one of the couches and attempted to keep out of his way for the rest of the hour, but after she had the kindling lit and had pulled off her snow pants, she found her bag and got her phone. The screen turned on asking for a passcode.

She wandered back into the kitchen. “Daddy? Can you unlock my phone?”

His patience still thin, Max practiced being gentle. “Sure, here, let me turn off the passcode.” He and Michelle kept Winnie’s phone tightly secured to protect her from any nefarious activity she might find online, but when she was under their supervision, they were more lenient, and Max didn’t want her coming back to him and bugging him to unlock the screen for her all weekend.

He returned the phone and watched Winnie stare at the screen. “It’s unlocked, right?”

“Yeah,” Winnie said, her brow knitted together, “but it’s not connecting to the internet.”

“Cell service might be a little spotty in this area. You might have to satisfy yourself with some of the games on the shelf this weekend.”

“Oh! It just connected.”

“Great, but I don’t want to hear you whining if service cuts in and out, okay?”

“I won’t,” Winnie assured him.

Max returned to his work in the kitchen and was able to finish without further interruption. Winnie had gotten a roaring fire going and, between that and the stew simmering on the stove, the atmosphere inside the cabin was getting to be quite cozy. Once dinner was simmering and had become nothing more than a waiting game, Max finally emerged from the kitchen. He found Winnie laying face-down on the sheepskin rug in her long-sleeve and panties, swiping colorful crystals in a mobile game. Her tight braids had loosened into a good amount of frizz as the day went on, though they still held their general shape. She kicked her twiggy legs in the air and hummed a made-up tune to herself while she played.

Max stared at her tiny bottom in her girlie Wonder Fury panties as she wriggled with each kick of her legs. Friction against the rug had sagged them down a bit and the top of her butt crack was peaking out of the colorful waistband. “Winnie, where are your pants?” he asked.

Winnie stopped what she was doing and glanced up at him. “You told me to take them off.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I told you to get changed. Go put some pants on, kiddo!”

Winnie swallowed. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but…” she paused. “Um, I don’t have other pants.”

Max started. “What? Where are they?”

“I… I forgot,” the girl said, lowering her eyes.

“Hold on. You remembered your socks this time, but you forgot your pants?” Max asked, incredulously. “Not even leggings?”

“Well, they didn’t fit in my backpack,” Winnie admitted, “so I thought I would just wear my snow pants.”

Max felt his pulse rising, but he fought back his annoyance. “Wendy…” he said as evenly as he could manage. It was the name he used when she was in trouble. “They didn’t fit because you put your helmet in your backpack. You didn’t need to do that.” He sighed. “You know, we can’t go to the mall tomorrow if you don’t have pants to wear.”

Despite his stoic temperament, the girl knew her father was irate. Still, the prospect of not going shopping triggered a small tantrum. “No, Daddy, I want to go to the malllll,” she whined, her cheeks nearly instantly turning red and threatening tears. She rolled over to protest, but caught her father’s eyes flicking open wide. She followed them to where he was looking: directly between her legs at the long purple bruise painted across her hip.

Max’s stern facade melted completely when he saw the vibrant stripe on her body. He was so focused on getting them something to eat, he had put her injury out of his mind. He felt the same pangs of horror that he had felt when he originally witnessed his daughter’s accident. It was black and blue and looked tender. “Oh my god, baby girl. That looks horrible.”

Winnie moved her hand to cover it, suddenly feeling shy.

Max sank to his knees to get a closer look. “Move your hand and let me see, okay?”

As her father moved her hand away, the girl reclined casually onto her elbows to observe his inspection. Max reached out and traced the line. He started at her hip bone and caressed the bruise. “Does it hurt here?”

Winnie shook her head. Max continued. The line went down into the band of her panties. He traced down over her underwear toward the point where the bruise reappeared from under her underwear leg-band.

In the process of performing his check-up, he was quickly becoming aware of how close his hand was again to his daughter’s vulva. Just a thin barrier of cartoon-printed fabric separated her forbidden flesh from the sensitive nerve endings of his fingertips. He tried to ignore the part of him that found it significant. She was merely his daughter, and he was checking up on her, and that was that.

“It kind of hurts there,” Winnie said when her father found the particularly tender spot on the crease in her thigh where it met her hip.

Max pushed gingerly and his little girl winced. “It looks like this is where the tree must have hit you the hardest, huh?”

Winnie nodded.

Max traced his fingers down toward the leg-band and then noticed that the elastic had split and was separating from the main knit of her undies. He pulled at it and the fabric quickly frayed. I guess this is what we get when we buy panties for a comic book character rather than quality construction, he thought. But he wasn’t about to spend loads of money for underwear at her age. “Looks like the tree thrashed Wonder Fury as much as your snow pants, huh?” Max joked.

“It’s not that bad,” she insisted, but as she tugged at her underwear in an attempt to prove it, she only exacerbated the problem. The threading easily separated, and the elastic leg band nearly detached completely. “Oh no! My Wonder Fury pannies!”

“It’s fine. We can get some more when we get home. Just tell me you didn’t forget to pack a second pair of panties,” Max pleaded with her.

Winnie shook her head, “No, I have another pair.”

Thank god, her father thought. His mind was already wandering inappropriately as he inspected his daughter’s inconveniently placed injury. The prospect of having her prancing about the cabin for two days without something to cover her up her privates seemed like a torturous exercise in mental restraint.

Max’s thumb met up where the injury exited from Winnie’s panties. Completely oblivious to the need for modesty, daughter splayed her skinny legs wide so that her father could get a better look at her in the firelight.

Max swallowed and he dipped his thumb into the dimple between the adductors of her inner thigh. Winnie felt a surprising muscle-twitch that shot up her legs and into a spot somewhere in her cunny. She gave a slight grunt against her will at the sensation. “Does that hurt, too, Pooh-bear?”

The girl shook her head and sat up some more. “No, it’s kind of sore there, but it’s mostly sore here.” She tucked her fingers into the split leg-hole where the band used to be and yanked them up as high as they would go, bunching it up along her waistband and fraying the remaining fabric all the more. In doing so, she revealed nearly all of the bruise in one view. As well, Winnie had carelessly revealed a lot more of other parts of herself. Her father blinked in surprise.

Even though she was his daughter, his eyes hungrily consumed all they could. In some ways, she looked almost naked down below. On the outward-facing hip side of her leg, he could see from her hip bones all the way down to the crease of her bottom cheek, with only a thinly bunched strip of fabric to break his view. On the inner thigh side, he could see most of one of her smooth labia. The soft, hairless, alabaster petal was pushing itself free of the girl’s pulled-tight undies, and the now-prominent dip in the middle of her pussy swallowed up the crotch of her panties in a front-wedgie, gratuitously hinting at the untouchable cleft behind it.

But Max found himself unable to resist, and he gently gripped the girl’s scrawny leg with one hand; he could practically wrap his hand around her whole thigh. As he caressed his daughter’s injury lightly, he occasionally attempted to brush his thumb ever closer to the succulent puff of his daughter’s youthful sex.

Winnie felt her dad’s gentle petting and melted into it. Her injury was painful, but having her daddy there to help massage the hurt away was nice, especially as she basked in the warmth of the crackling fire. She relaxed, sinking back onto the sheepskin rug, and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensations of her father’s ministrations, unaware that her display was catalyzing a change in him.

The skin-to-skin contact of his large hands against her small body was also something the young girl was experiencing anew. As she had gotten older, she needed less constant contact with her parents. She had become independent, and long nights playing tickle games, cuddling with them on a couch, or hiding from monsters in their bed while they all slept, had given way to a maturity, and sense of responsibility for her own self. She was still young, but had become fiercely independent, now outgrowing that monster nonsense and willing to try new things and tackle new challenges. But there under her father’s attentive ministrations, Winnie felt like a re-connection between him and that still-little girl inside of her, and she desired more from that familiar connection than she truly understood.

Suddenly she felt him brush against her naked pussy lip. Instinctively, she thought to shy away. She had been well-taught not to let others touch her there. But the sensation caused another ripple throughout her nerves and it took her breath in a way that felt unusual and exciting. And after all, it was her father, not some stranger, who was touching her cunny, and he was helping her, not trying to hurt her. Something unknown, something she had never felt before, filled her heart and she giggled.

Max startled at her sudden laugh. Broken from his trance, he suddenly realized how close he had come to perhaps molesting his only child. He wondered if he had even technically already crossed that line with that final caress against her girlish labium. He cleared his throat. “Did that tickle?” He asked mostly to break the tension going on in his mind, but partly to distract himself from his shame.

Winnie blushed and nodded, and said, “It’s okay, Daddy, I think it feels a little better now.” She hoped he would continue.

Instead, Max pushed himself off the ground and turned toward the kitchen. He needed a beer. “Okay, well, I’m going to get some daddy juice. Do you want something to drink?”

Winnie popped up and jeered, “I want some daddy juice, too!”

Coming from his daughter’s mouth, Max regretted his choice of euphemism, but he deftly countered her demand, tossing her a sports drink. “Porter for me, Gator for you.” Max popped the top off of his beer and watched his daughter use both hands to take a swig from her bottle. She finished off with a gasp and a tiny burp. He followed her up with a rather loud one, causing her to guffaw and shy away in repulsion at the same time. “I win,” he bragged. Winnie stuck out her tongue.

The two of them puttered around the cabin, finding things to do and, after a while, the ding of the kitchen timer cut through the air. “Stew’s done. Go set the table. Everything’s in the paper bag.”

Winnie skipped around, putting out two of everything. Max removed the simmering dinner from the stovetop, spooned it into two bowls, and applied the remaining garnishes. They both took their seats across from one another at the rustic table. The heat from the wood stove had yet to fully permeate the roomy cabin and Winnie shivered as the wooden chair stole the warmth from her skinny, naked legs. “These seats are cold!” She tugged once again at her superhero-themed panties, trying to get the backside to cover her exposed bottom, but they only unraveled all the more.

Max gave a half-smile. “Oh, you know a little trick I like to do when my legs are cold, Pooh-bear?”

“Yeah,” the girl said. “What is it?”

“I wear pants.”

Winnie glared and stuck out her tongue again, her gleaming eyes and a smirk betraying her true feelings.

“You keep sticking that thing out and I’m going to bite it off,” Max jokingly threatened. The girl tensed up, eyes wide, her tongue retreating with a cartoonish “Thip!” They both laughed together.

Max took a deep breath and sighed contentedly. Even though all of his plans for the weekend seemed to have fallen through, he was feeling better and better about their circumstance. His daughter’s care-free demeanor, along with the porter, was putting him at ease. He looked around at the small cabin they had rented and felt a kind of cozy romance building inside of it. Here they were, mostly off-grid with nothing much to do but pass the remaining time with one another. He wondered if he could keep his active daughter entertained for the next full day, but they were both resourceful, and deep down he had a feeling they were going to be fine.

They ate and talked, mostly on subjects relating to Winnie’s hobbies and interests, which, thankfully to Max, didn’t seem too often to stray to boys just yet. They talked about her favorite Christmas presents, the coming school quarter, and vague summer plans to visit a theme park—mostly her idea.

Before long, dinner was over and Winnie eagerly hopped up to clear their bowls and spoons. She put them in the sink and turned around, smiling brightly.

Max smiled back sweetly, sensing the impending request from the eager little girl. “Gee, is there something on your mind, Winnie-poo?”

Winnie put her hands to her mouth and blurted out, “Can we go in the hot tub now?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Max teased.

The girl’s anguish was immediate. “Please?”

Max was amused by his daughter’s unexpectedly dramatic reaction, and decided to lean into his indecision. “But Win, we didn’t pack any swimming suits.”

Winnie’s composure melted quickly into a bratty whine. “Daddy, I wanna go in the hot tub.”

“What can I say? We don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll wear my pannies!” the girl begged, hands clasped together.

Max chortled. “Those things are going to dissolve in the water at this point.”

“I’ll go put my other ones on.”

Max frowned, serious this time. “Oh no, you’re not soaking your only other pair of panties, young lady.” That was a scandal he wanted to avoid.

Winnie was at a loss. Her father had evaded her every play. Already she was missing out on another day of skiing and their backup plan of going to the mall, too. Unless she could come up with something, she was afraid that her time in the hot tub would be the next in line for cancellation.

“What if we skinny dipped?” she blurted out.

“Ha!” Max howled, but then asked, “Hey, where did you learn about skinny dipping?”

Winnie shrugged and giggled, unsure where she had picked up the concept, but she sensed his weakness and wouldn’t let her father evade the point. “Can we, Daddyyy?”

Max thought for a moment. Practically speaking, it wasn’t a bad idea. Because the rental listing failed to mention the hot tub, neither of them had a proper bathing suit, nor many extra clean clothes to spare, especially in Winnie’s case. If they were going to take advantage of the amenity, skinny dipping was an option for them not to spoil clothes that were meant to be worn dry.

He did wonder about them being naked together. Before his daughter was born, he and his wife would lounge around the house in all manner of undress, even completely nude, and when Winnie arrived, that didn’t change significantly for several years. But, as their child grew older and began learning about the differences between boys and girls, he grew less likely to parade around with his cock swinging. In fact, by his recollection it had been at least a couple years since she would have last seen him totally naked.

But ultimately, he felt it was her decision. If she was comfortable skinny dipping in front of him, he wasn’t going to say no. The fatherly side of him was happy that his daughter was still largely innocent, and he figured that, while she was a curious girl, seeing her father in the buff once more probably wouldn’t draw her attention much more than normal. There was a more perverse side of him, of course, that was also curious. Curious to see the rest of what his daughter had started to show him on the sheepskin rug.

“Okay, kiddo,” Max agreed, feigning reluctance. Winnie whooped. “But we’re bringing your other underwear out, just in case we need to put something on. I don’t want one of the neighbors dropping by unexpectedly and catching us without a stitch to wear.”

Winnie streaked outside, squealing and slamming the door behind her while Max retreated to the bedroom with his duffle bag of clothing. As he undressed, he noticed Winnie’s backpack was on the bed. He smirked. She was trying to claim the entirety of the full-sized bed for herself, but when he rented the place, he had planned to take it and put her up on a couch with a pillow and some blankets, sleepover style. Spending the night on a couch was not something Max’s body could easily bounce back from these days.

He rooted through her backpack and found her other pair of panties: simple, pink cotton with a frilly band and a tiny, silk bow in the front. He then stripped down to his underwear—basic trunks—and noticed he had the beginning of a problem. His underwear was tenting obviously. The thought of seeing his daughter naked, or perhaps it was the act of him being naked with his her, was having an effect on his penis. He didn’t have a full-blown erection, but he was sure it was obvious enough that her young, curious mind may not be able to resist asking questions about it.

He thought about going to the bathroom to jerk off real quick, but he heard the door slam again. “Daddy!”

“Uh, what is it, Win?”

“I can’t lift up the lid.”

No time to masturbate, not with his eager child demanding his strength, and anyway if he did the deed, he’d have post-orgasmic cum leaking out the tip for some time. If she was going to stare, he definitely didn’t want it to be at that dripping out of his cock in sticky strands. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” Max shook his head and decided not to think about it too much and just get undressed, figuring having his cock out half-inflated would be less noticeable than having a prominent tent in his underwear.

He exited the bedroom and found his daughter wearing nothing but her ragged panties, which were practically pulling themselves apart at her hip. She had her arms pulled close over her nipples, less due to any modesty and more due to the chill from having been outside. She shivered and stamped her feet eagerly, her waif-like, youthful form small and vulnerable. “Hurry, I’m cold!” Her needy smile begged her daddy to help and gave Max all the wrong ideas. With her body on display, even modestly covered, he felt his cock twitch obviously.

Winnie’s eyes were drawn to the movement at his waist, and she marveled at the large size of her father’s manhood. On two occasions at her school, boys had shown her their privates in a bargain to get her to show them her pussy. She had resisted their negotiations, and even though she played it safe, both times the boys showed her theirs, anyway. She stared at their mysterious members as long as she could while they had their pants and underwear around their ankles. She never really did understand exactly how the little tools were supposed to work; all she knew was her father, by comparison, was massive.

Max could tell she was staring and was eager to redirect her attention. “Catch,” he said, tossing her a balled up, fresh pair of underwear. Winnie reached out and caught the garment, just barely. In the process, she uncovered herself, revealing her skinny chest, nipples prominent. Despite her lack of a generous rack on top, Max still drank in the view, albeit briefly. He knew he had to get in the water soon, or his cock would really become a distraction. “Okay, let’s get out there.”

Max opened the door and the freezing air took both of their breaths away. Winnie stiffened instantly and skipped to the hot tub, hooting. Max shuffled quickly after her and lifted the lid once again. While he was briefly distracted, Winnie stared at her father’s cock, dangling in the air. It looked soft and spongy, and Winnie still wondered how it was supposed to work. She had heard the routine several times from her parents. Man loves woman, man puts penis inside vulva, babies are made. She thought she understood, but what she was looking at hanging between her daddy’s legs didn’t make any sense. For one, it looked too squishy to go somewhere so small like her little pussy. And for two, even if it could get in, it looked way too big to fit all the way inside! She puzzled at the dichotomy.

Max shifted the lid fully off the hot tub and into the surrounding snowbank and pressed the button to turn on the the underwater lights, casting an exotic blue glow across his nude form. He turned to his daughter, catching her eyes flicking up from down below to meet his. She broke into a smile and pranced in place, he feet aching from the cold, snow-covered ground.