Courage Under Fire (Silver Creek #2) - Lindsay McKenna Page 0,49
he agreed, settling the moccasin against his large foot until he was comfortable with it. “Isn’t it more fun finding out what a person does or is made of, sort of like a treasure hunt?”
Another snort and Cari followed suit, making sure the bottom of her moccasins were flat against the soles of her feet. “The only problem with that is that you don’t give me a treasure map to follow! I don’t call that communication. I call that hiding.”
Another chuckle.
She liked the silvery gleam in his eyes. Both of them enjoyed their repartee with one another. “You’re like a bunch of nesting dolls from Russia,” she accused lightly.
“I’m no doll,” he said.
“Okay, then you’re one of those Chinese boxes that frustrate me trying to find a way to open them up.”
“That I’ll say thank you to.” He winked at her.
“You’re such a tease,” she accused, laughing.
“Okay, I’ll try to be more open with you. Fair enough?”
“That would be nice,” she agreed.
“Ready to do the fox walk?”
“Let’s do it!”
“First, bend your knees slightly,” he said. “Next, put all your weight on one foot, and once balanced, lift up the other foot. Then step forward. You’ll note that as you extend your right leg forward that your left knee is bent and will act like a shock absorber, as well as helping keep your balance. As you bring that foot down, Cari? Land on the outside of it, then roll the weight back to the heel, and then settle the entire sole on the ground. Go ahead, try that.”
Well! Cari muffed it time and again. She was having trouble flexing both knees fairly deeply, which, Chase explained, helped lower her center of gravity more toward the ground, therefore controlling how lightly the outside of her moccasin contacted the ground. She tried again and again.
“You’re doing fine,” Chase said, giving her a nod. “Keep working at it.”
“Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know,” she huffed, her arms out to balance herself. “This is hard work!”
“At first,” he said, sympathetic, “it is. But the more you do it? The easier it becomes.”
“Did you walk this way in Afghanistan?”
“Many times.”
“So?” she challenged, extending her left leg, trying to balance on one deeply flexed right leg. “How much of the time?”
“Depended upon the situation,” he said.
“But it comes naturally to you now?”
“Yes. Okay. Stop. Take a breather and relax. Watch what I do . . .” He moved to the side where she could fully see the actions of his body and how he placed that foot on the ground.
“You don’t even have to hold your arms out like windmills to balance yourself,” she growled.
“Practice makes perfect,” he said, slowing each movement down so that Cari could clearly see the steps taken to make that footfall silent once it contacted the ground.
“I’ll never be able to do that!”
“Sure you will.” He turned and walked back toward her. “It just takes practice. And patience.”
“I thought I was a patient person,” she groused, trying it again.
“Focus on your body, listen for when you place your foot on the side. See if you hear a sound.”
To her surprise, she’d totally forgotten about the noise, instead wavering around like a three-bladed airplane propeller, completely out of balance.
“See?” he said, catching her glance. “No sound. That’s good. You’re doing it right. Now? All you have to do is get your body to move in a more fluid way. That will come with time, so be proud you are not making noise.”
“Humph.”
“You do get grumpy upon occasion, don’t you?”
“You’re an unmerciful tease, Chase Bishop.”
He preened.
She snorted and gave him a chastising glare, her arms still out to keep herself balanced. “I’m just not used to being so low to the ground, keeping my shoulders in alignment, not bobbing up and down like we do in a natural walk. This is hard!”
“Didn’t you think learning beekeeping was hard?” he wondered, walking silently beside her, keeping a distance between them as they moved deeper into the grove.
“Never.”
“Do you remember trying to walk when you were a toddler?”
“No. I suppose you do?”
“Petulance will get you nowhere, Ms. Taylor.”
Cari’s barking laughter echoed around them. “Tell me. Were you an instructor at the Marine Corps school, I wonder? You certainly behave like one.”
“No, I was always a field operator. I didn’t want to be an instructor.”
“Coulda fooled me.” Her arms went up and down as she lost her balance, breaking the rhythm of her fox walk. “Crap!”