An hour later, Wind was back for his boots and the skis.

On the first run, he made one turn. Then another. Then another, faster and faster.

The edges held on the hard snow and ice. The skis bent into the turn and sprang out of it, already wanting the next one.

“Sophie. These skis.”

“I can see.”

“No, but these skis.”

“Yes,” said Sophie. “You’ve mentioned them.”

He looked down at the little sticker again.

Train #2.

He couldn’t imagine what Race #1 must be like.