I think this is the best view around Boise, grander than most Brenna has seen, but she is brooding, not looking around.
“Are you anxious about the ride down?” I ask, making a guess.
She hesitates before offering an indignant, “yes.”
I feel bad about that. “Oh Brenna,” I say sympathetically, “down is easier; I promise.”
But she’s little inclined to be consoled.