cutbank

At the bottom of a cutbank, about a mile along, I smelled it.

That’s why I couldn’t trust what I saw as we rode up the cutbank closest to home.

Two figures, the larger one tugging the smaller along, kept to the top of the cutbank.

Panting, I crested the cutbank.

All three boys made elaborately casual turns, then loped back down the cutbank and out of sight.