Christmas at Glitter Peak Lodge

Prologue Avalanche

As soon as she hears the faint rumbling, she knows they’ve made the biggest—and maybe the last—mistake of their lives.

At first, she can only hear it. Then she sees it. The avalanche is a white sheet racing toward them, breaking up into small

ivory flakes, a spiderweb getting bigger and bigger as it hurtles down the mountainside.

She’s completely paralyzed for what feels like an eternity. Then she hears shouting—from Giovanni, from Sherpa Pertema, from

the others in the group. Preben is first in the procession, and she can’t make out what he’s saying. He said it was safe before

they left base camp. He said he knew what he was doing. That was only a few minutes ago—and now the avalanche is coming. It’s

all happening so fast. She thinks someone’s going to die. She just doesn’t know who it is. But she isn’t afraid. Not yet.

The white snow is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. It’s also the most terrifying thing she’s ever seen. It’s a train

barreling toward her at a hundred miles per hour. It’s a wild animal that’s been hibernating in the mountains, furious that

it’s been awakened from its slumber. It’s a monster, a yeti... no—it’s a glittering, white dragon. That’s what it is.

Suddenly, she’s no longer paralyzed. Her body wakes up, and she wants to run, but the ground is disappearing beneath her; it’s crumbling to pieces. The dragon gets hold of her and lifts her, and she floats on its breath at first. Then it dances with her—a frenzied dance, around and around, moving faster and faster.

There’s snow and ice on all sides. She’s lost control; she can’t breathe; she’s in a maelstrom; she’s pushed down into the

mass of snow, locked in, shoved under. And then—silence.

Is she dead? She can see a few streaks of light. She’s not in any pain. She’s not cold. But she can’t move her legs; it’s

as if they’re cast in stone. She tries her hands, which are up by her face, and is able to move them an inch or two in each

direction. So she’s not dead after all.

She’s able to create only a small space by moving her hands. But the cracks start filling up with snow and the light disappears.

Now it’s getting hard to breathe. She can’t get enough air. Her lungs start to burn. Which way is up? Which way is down? she thinks. How deep am I? How many minutes do I have left? Was this how it was supposed to end?

Then everything goes dark.