The Mountain Hut – Part 2: Clear Morning

Lina woke before dawn to silence. The storm had gone, and the hut was cold and still, the stove reduced to a few glowing embers. Through the small window, the sky was turning from black to deep blue, and the peaks outside were pale and sharp, dusted with fresh snow.

Matteo was asleep on the bench by the door, one arm flung over his eyes, Gigi curled at his feet like a furry grey cushion. Lina watched him for a moment, the rise and fall of his chest, the lines softened by sleep. Then she slid off the bunk, pulled on her boots and went to put more wood on the stove.

By the time the first light hit the ridge, she had coffee brewing in a battered metal pot, and Matteo was awake and sitting up with Gigi's head in his lap.

"You made coffee," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"I made terrible coffee," said Lina. "But it's hot."

"Hot is the most important thing," said Matteo, and took the mug she handed him, his fingers brushing hers.

They drank in silence, watching the sun touch the top of the mountains one by one, turning them gold and rose.

"We could climb to the ridge," said Matteo. "If you're not too tired. The view from the top is worth the blisters."

"You said that about every mountain last night."

"I was telling the truth about every mountain last night."

She laughed, and felt the warmth of the coffee spread through her chest. "Then yes," she said. "Let's climb."

The path to the ridge was steep and icy, and Matteo went first, testing each step, reaching back to steady her when she slipped. Gigi bounded ahead, barking at marmots and the occasional startled bird. The air was thin and cold, and every breath tasted of snow and pine.

At the top, the world opened out in every direction. Peaks like broken teeth, valleys like folded blankets, the first sunlight pouring over everything in a flood of gold.

Lina stood very still. She had seen mountains before, from the windows of ambulances and the back of hospital wards, but never like this, with nothing between her and the sky.

"Oh," she said quietly.

Matteo came to stand beside her, close, his shoulder almost touching hers.

"That's what I come back for," he said. "Every season. I stand here and remember why I haven't left."

"Can I ask you something?" said Lina, not looking away from the view.

"Yes."

"Why haven't you left? Really?"

Matteo was silent for a long moment. The wind moved softly over the snow.

"Because nobody ever asked me to stay," he said at last. "And because I was too proud to ask anyone else."

Lina turned to him. His face was open and tired and surprisingly vulnerable in the clear morning light.

"Then I'm asking," she said. "Not to stay for ever. Just to come back, next season, and show me the ridge again, when the snow is melting and the flowers are out."

Matteo's breath caught, a white cloud in the cold air.

"Yes," he said. "Yes. But can I ask you something back?"

"Anything."

"Would you let me kiss you, here, on the top of the Dolomites, with the whole world watching and no one else for miles?"

Lina laughed, bright and surprised. "Yes," she said. "And if I say stop, we'll go back down and make terrible coffee again."

"Deal," said Matteo, and turned to face her fully, his hand coming up to cup her cold cheek.

He kissed her slowly, the warmth of his mouth a sharp contrast to the cold air, the faint taste of coffee on his lips. Lina's gloved hands found the front of his fleece, and held on. Far below, the valley glowed in the sun, and somewhere a bell rang faintly from a village they could not see.

When they parted, both of them were laughing softly, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Lina. "Very, very green. Now show me the flowers. I'm holding you to next season."

"You'd better," said Matteo, with a grin, and whistled for Gigi, who came bounding through the snow to see what all the fuss was about.