Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
The whiteout was so complete, I couldn’t be confident about the time of day. It couldn’t be noon yet, but it was getting close enough that I expected the blizzard to be lighter when I looked straight up.
It wasn’t.
I was deluding myself. I was standing in the middle of a snow globe, in a low-lit room. And every time I took a step, the ground moved beneath me like a horizontal escalator, and I remained in the center of the dome.
I aimed my strides in the direction of that flash of blue. It couldn’t have been a reflection of light off a swirl of ice crystals. I’d seen that before. But that little trick required light in the first place, and there was none. Just white on white.
I held my compass up to see if it had come to its senses, but it hadn’t. And while I tucked it back in my pocket, the wind changed direction yet again. Instead of blowing sideways, the snow was now at my back, pushing me forward again.
“No wonder I’m lost. The snow doesn’t even know where it’s going.”
I heard something then. A tinkling, like from a small bell.
“Maybe someone’s cat is out here. Here, kitty kitty!” I laughed at myself. It made me feel better, even though I sounded like I was four minutes from losing it.
I kept my strides steady, watching for another flash, and realized the ground had changed. A steep slope rose in front of me and I stopped to judge how high it might go. A better vantage point wasn’t a bad idea.
I tipped my head back and was rewarded with another flash of blue! It disappeared over the top of the hill, showing me just how high it went.
“I’m coming,” I shouted. Then I whistled a few times for good measure.
If someone was teasing me, luring me somewhere, at least I wasn’t alone.
And if they hadn’t noticed me, whoever they were would be headed for shelter, wouldn’t they?
All I had to do was find their trail and follow their footprints!
I ran out of gas halfway up the rise and stopped to catch my breath.
My emotions had drained me like a Saturday breakfast shift, and the only thing that got me going again, got me to the top of that hill, was a petty thought—if I died here, Nick wouldn’t have to pay me a dime for my half of the restaurant.
And when I reached the peak, I felt like I’d beaten him, somehow.
I planted my poles and took off my glasses.
The snow still swirled and spit at me, but visibility was better, as if the storm was neglecting the narrow valley hiding at my feet.
A dense forest started just beyond it and continued up a massive mountain that disappeared in the clouds.
But at the far end of the dip was the start of a row of white square buildings!
I was saved!
No snow cave necessary, which was a lucky thing, because I didn’t have the strength to dig one.
I pushed off and was able to glide nearly to the end of the gulch. By the time I had to kick, I had regained enough strength to reach the first building. Not far behind it was a rise that merged with that same mountain.
Thanks to the hill and the forest, the little town was completely hidden from the rest of the world. And though it sounded quaint, it appeared as though hiding hadn’t helped the community thrive. The place looked like it had been abandoned centuries ago.
Ancient houses, made of stone and flat white walls, looked uninhabitable.
They all sat on the far side of the road that stretched off to the right, facing the forest. And they were spread far apart, as if the owners liked to keep their distance from each other.
Two or three more houses could easily have fit between them.
At the far end of the road and deep in the L-shaped mountain’s pocket, sat the one and only building with a roof that appeared complete. Though, how effective could a roof be if it was made from shaggy hair, or rather, shaggy plants?
Some of the other buildings were topped with a slanted patchwork of boards and logs. Some had no tops at all. Most had old doors with bars across them, like animals might be kept inside. But I heard no sounds of life as I passed by them.
It was more than just the snow muffling sound—there was no sound to muffle, other than my skis slicing through undisturbed drifts as I made my way for that one precious roof.
I was going to live through the night. What else mattered? In the morning, after the storm was gone, I’d have to go back out of that valley if I expected anyone to find me. But first, I would get my strength back.
“Oh, wow!”
When I finally figured out the leather latch and got the short door open, I couldn’t believe what waited inside the shaggy-roofed house.
It hadn’t been abandoned at all. There was a stove, a funky piece of low wall that jutted out and created a flat counter for a kitchen.
Pans hung above it against the back wall, and a beautiful pile of chopped wood sat nearby in a square basket made of sturdy woven branches.
To the left sat a bed with a giant pillow-looking mattress, with blankets folded neatly and hung on the rustic footboard. A window above the bed and the one on the opposite side of the room let in just enough light to see by, despite the storm.
There were no signs of animals invading the place. No visible drips from the odd ceiling.
On the right side of the room, there was a single chair, a square table with carvings up and down the legs and around the edges of the tabletop. On the wall directly behind it, to the right of the kitchen, was a set of shelves. It held books, dishes, and small boxes with carvings like the table.
Beneath all that sat a large trunk with a heavy lock. Tools hung on the next wall and candles sat in mismatched candlesticks throughout the house.
There was no refrigerator, but I found a cabinet built into the wall between the kitchen and the bed.
It had carved bowls and small baskets half-full of raw vegetables.
There was a jar of honey and some odds and ends I couldn’t identify.
Lastly, there was an old tin with loose tea, and a loaf of bread with a hard crust that might have been there a week or two.
“A bothy,” I said, just to hear a human voice. “It’s a bothy!”
I’d heard about them before—houses in the mountains that were for anyone to use for shelter.
Hikers, skiers, campers, anyone who found themselves stranded.
What once might have been a shepherd’s home was now maintained by an official association of volunteers who repaired roofs and kept these places inhabitable.
No reservations. Open to everyone. Leave it as you find it.
Maybe this was the Ryovan Bothy! If so, I wasn’t as lost as I thought I was. I hadn’t skied completely off the map!
I got a fire started and danced a little jig when the larger logs caught. I said a little prayer for the lovely person who had left the bread behind, and I made a meal of half of it. The inside wasn’t nearly as dry as I’d expected, and I washed it down with snow I melted in a tall pot.
When I’d taken the thing outside to collect a top layer of the white stuff, I’d noticed a large pile of logs in the process of being buried by storm and made a note to do some chopping before I left, to replace as much wood as I used.
I dipped up some of the “homemade water” with a tin mug and sat it on the stove to heat for some tea, then I finally removed my gear and propped it near the stove to dry.
I stood my frozen skis up against the wall beside the door so I wouldn’t step in any puddles left by the ice as it melted.
Then I pulled the chair close to the heat and sipped my poorly strained tea while wiggling my toes in front of the open stove door.
When I caught myself falling asleep, I closed the little door and moved to the bed.
I worried what it might smell like, but I was pleasantly surprised to taste nothing but sweet flowers and soap. I spread out two heavy quilts and crawled between them, not daring to touch the pillows or the mattress itself.
I was fine. I had food in my stomach. I was safe, dry, warm, even. So I couldn’t say why I cried myself to sleep.