Wind swept wildly against the windows, rattling the panes, sending embers shooting through the air–miniature meteors bright and angry. The low, smoky haze cast a gray pall. But even the blanket of smoke couldn’t obscure the mountains, blazing red against the darkening sky. I stood transfixed, watching fire devour the mountain I’d hiked… what was that? A week ago? Shaking off the fire’s spell, I grabbed my notebook and my laptop. My Irish Setter tugged at my shirt, whining. I flung the door open. Smoke rolled in, heavy and acrid. I darted toward the truck, praying it would start.