Clark is sleeping. Not entirely peacefully, stressful Lex encounters will do that, but he is sleeping. The rest of the farm is quiet as well, with only the occasional moo audible in the late night air
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Clark ushers her into the truck and then heads north toward Burnham Woods. Eights might be interested in Chandler's Field as they pass it, with the newly rebuilt windmill that he will point out. It's about the only interesting thing to see on the way.
As it's near winter, the lake and the surrounding woods are all but deserted. The truck stops in the makeshift parking lot not too far from the water and Clark slides out, cooler in hand.
She sidesteps easily. Dancer, after all. And it's completely natural to grab him by the arm and shove him towards the lake, because turnabout is fair play, is it not?
Clark, it must be said, has all the grace of a bull in a china shop. Anna scampers out of the way with little trouble but when she pushes him, he's able to twist around and snake an arm around her waist.
The other soon follows and it doesn't take as much effort as he thought it might to lift her off her feet and spin her around toward the water.
As it's near winter, the lake and the surrounding woods are all but deserted. The truck stops in the makeshift parking lot not too far from the water and Clark slides out, cooler in hand.
"Damn, we should've brought the horses."
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"Sometimes."
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"Well, that makes my decision easier, doesn't it?"
And then he lunges for her.
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Of course, that means she's within his reach now.
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The other soon follows and it doesn't take as much effort as he thought it might to lift her off her feet and spin her around toward the water.
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His footing lost, in they both go.
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