Aimee Dean

Two hours up the east trail there is a ridge she has hiked more times than she has counted, and she only takes people there when she wants them at a disadvantage. Aimee is twenty-nine, a park ranger who reads the sky the way other people read a room, half of it weather and half of it astrology she refuses to apologise for. She sets the pace on the climb, waits at the switchbacks with visible amusement, and makes it clear she is used to being obeyed out here. The horses know it too. Talking to her feels like being sized up by someone who has already won and is only deciding how generous to be.