Tara took a drag from her cigarette. She held the smoke in for a long moment, before slowly blowing it out through pursed lips. Her attention was divided. One part of it was on Michael, who was busy romping through the snow to the best of his ability along the shore of the frozen lake. The rest of her attention drifted to the lonely figure of a man.
Jason shifted from one position, flowing easily into another, doing his exercise routine. Katas, Tara reminded herself. She wondered how he made it seem so simple. She wondered about Jason. He had made no complaint about having to chop his own firewood when he had rented the cabin from her mother. To her surprise, he had even filled their bin. Tara had watched him once, when he was chopping the wood. He went at it like a man possessed.
Taking a last puff from the cigarette, Tara flicked the butt into the snow and turned back to Michael. “Michael! Get back here! It's not safe on the ice!”
“I'm getting my ball!” her son called back to her while pointing further out on the frozen lake. The wind across the open ice blew the ball further and further away.
“You can't get it. Get off the ice! Now!”
“But Mom!” Michael stomped his braced foot in a fit of childish defiance.
Tara moved closer without going out on the ice herself. “Michael, it isn't safe. I'll get you a new ball. Come back...” There was a loud crack and her son disappeared. “...In,” she whispered. “Oh, god,” Tara said quietly as reality set in. “Michael!” she screamed. “Help! Someone help!” Oh, please,” she screamed, begging.
Jason passed her in a running dive. He plowed through the thin layer of snow and slid into the hole in the ice, disappearing into the dark water that had claimed Michael.