Epilogue
THORNE
The wind has picked up over the last hour, sharp and biting, carrying the heavy scent of coming snow.
I keep moving anyway, boots sinking into the deepening drifts as I follow the faint trail left in the snow.
The missing woman’s footprints are still visible in places, small and hurried, leading higher up the north ridge.
She has been out here for at least three days now.
Cold. Scared. Possibly hurt. My job is simple: find her.
I adjust the strap of my pack and check the radio clipped to my vest again.
Static. Nothing but static. The last clear transmission from the team came almost two hours ago.
Rafe telling me to head back before the storm hits.
I replied that I was close. That I could see fresh signs.
Then the signal dropped and never came back.
Now the sky has turned the color of dirty steel, and the first fat flakes are beginning to swirl around me.
The temperature is dropping fast. I pull my hood tighter and keep climbing, eyes scanning the ground for any sign of her.
A broken branch here. A scrap of fabric caught on a rock there.
She’s heading toward the old mine shafts. Bad place to be caught in a storm.
My breath fogs in front of me. The cold bites through my gloves and into my fingers.
I flex them to keep the blood moving. I’ve been out here since first light, tracking steadily, but the weather is turning faster than any of us expected.
The team will be worried. Eli will already be cursing my name for not turning back when the radio died.
But I can’t leave her out here alone. Not when I’m this close.
Another set of prints appears in a sheltered spot beneath a rocky overhang.
Smaller boots. Fresh. She stopped here recently, maybe to rest. The snow around the prints is disturbed, like she sat down for a minute.
I crouch and study the marks. She’s limping now.
Favoring her right leg. Hypothermia will be setting in soon if it hasn’t already.
I stand and press on, following the trail as it winds higher.
The wind howls louder between the trees, whipping snow into my face.
Visibility’s dropping fast. The world has narrowed to a few yards in every direction.
I click on my headlamp even though it’s still daylight.
The beam cuts through the swirling white, picking out the next set of prints.
She went left here, toward the steeper slope. Not smart. That path leads straight toward the old abandoned shafts. Dangerous even in good weather. Deadly in this.
I push forward, boots slipping on the icy ground. My radio crackles once, a burst of static, then nothing. I try calling in anyway.
“Rafe, this is Thorne. I’m still on her trail. Heading toward the old mine entrance. Over.”
Only silence answers.
The snow comes down harder now, thick and heavy, blanketing everything in white.
I keep moving, one careful step after another, eyes locked on the ground.
The prints are getting harder to see. The wind is erasing them almost as fast as I find them.
I crest a small rise and pause, scanning the slope below.
There. A flash of color half-buried in the snow. Red. A jacket maybe. Or a scarf. I start down the incline, moving as quickly as I dare on the treacherous ground.
The wind screams louder. Snow stings my eyes. I blink it away and keep going. The red object grows clearer. It’s a glove. Small. Woman’s size. I pick it up. Still warm. She dropped it minutes ago.
My pulse quickens. I’m close. Very close.
I call out into the storm. “Hello! Can you hear me? My name’s Thorne. I’m here to help!” The wind swallows my voice.
I keep moving, following the faint depression in the snow where her boots broke through.
The ground grows steeper. Rocks jut out like broken teeth.
The old mine entrance should be just ahead, a dark maw cut into the mountainside.
If she went inside, she might be sheltered from the worst of the storm. Or she might be trapped.
Another ten yards. The snow is falling so thick now it feels like walking through a white curtain. I sweep the beam of my headlamp left and right, searching.
There.
A small figure huddled against a rock outcropping, half-buried in snow. Dark hair. Red jacket. She’s curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped around her knees.
I move faster. “Ma’am! I’m here. Can you hear me?”
No response.
I drop to my knees beside her and brush snow from her face. She’s young, maybe twenty-one, lips blue, skin pale as the snow around her. Her eyes flutter open for a second, unfocused, then close again.
“Stay with me,” I say, voice firm. “I’m going to get you warm.”
I shrug off my pack and pull out the emergency blanket. I wrap it around her, then start rubbing her arms through the fabric, trying to get circulation moving. Her pulse is weak but there. Hypothermia. Bad.
I try the radio again. “Rafe, this is Thorne. I have her. She’s alive but in bad shape. Hypothermia. Need evac now. Over.”
Only static answers.
The storm howls louder. Visibility has dropped to almost zero. I can barely see ten feet in any direction. Getting her down the mountain in this is going to be nearly impossible.
I scoop her up carefully, cradling her against my chest. She’s light. Too light. I start back the way I came, moving as fast as I dare on the slick slope. Every step is a battle against the wind and the deepening snow.
The woman stirs weakly in my arms. “Cold…” she whispers.
“I know. I’ve got you. Stay awake for me.”
I keep talking to her, low and steady, telling her my name, telling her help is coming, telling her she’s going to be okay. My own body is starting to feel the cold now. My fingers are numb inside my gloves. My legs burn from the effort of carrying her through the drifts.
The wind shifts suddenly, driving snow directly into my face. I turn my head against it and keep moving. I need to find shelter. The old mine entrance is close. Dangerous, but better than staying out here.
I crest another small rise and see the dark opening of the shaft ahead. Just a few more yards.
That’s when the ground gives way beneath my right foot.
The snow had hidden a drop-off. My leg plunges into empty space. I twist hard, trying to protect the woman in my arms as we fall. Pain explodes in my ankle. We tumble down a short embankment, snow and rocks sliding with us.
I land hard on my side, the woman still clutched against my chest. For a moment everything is silent except for the howl of the wind. Then pain flares hot and sharp in my left leg.
I try to sit up. The world spins. I stay down, breathing through the agony, one arm still wrapped protectively around the woman. She’s unconscious again, but breathing.
I reach for the radio with numb fingers. “Rafe… this is Thorne. I’m down. The woman is with me. We’re near the old mine entrance. Need help… now.”
Only static answers.
The snow keeps falling, thicker than before, covering us both in a white blanket. The wind screams through the trees. My headlamp flickers once, then holds.
I pull the woman closer, sharing what little body heat I have left, and look up at the darkening sky.
The storm’s getting worse.
No one knows exactly where I am.
And night is coming fast.
I close my eyes for a second, pain throbbing through my leg, and whisper into the wind.
“Come on, boys. Find us.”
The mountain gives no answer.
Only the howl of the storm.
Thank you for reading!