For a long moment I just lie there, shaking violently, trying to remember how to function.
Phone. I need my phone.
I dig it out with clumsy fingers. Still no signal, but the battery is at sixty percent. The waterproof case did its job. I pull up my GPS, waiting for it to load.
When it does, my stomach drops. I'm miles from where I thought I was. Miles from the Ridgeline Trail, from the main paths, from anything marked on the map.
I'm in the middle of nowhere, in a structure that probably no one knows exists, with a storm raging outside and the temperature dropping.
The shaking is getting worse. I need to get out of these wet clothes, need to get warm, but I have nothing dry in my pack. My emergency blanket is there, but it's designed to reflect heat, not generate it, and I'm not generating any heat to reflect.
This is really, really bad.
I curl into a ball on the floor, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to preserve whatever warmth is left in my core.
The rational part of my brain knows I should activate the SOS on my phone. This is an emergency. This is exactly what that function is for.
But my fingers won't cooperate. They're too cold, too numb. Everything is starting to blur at the edges. The shaking issubsiding, which I know is a bad sign. Your body stops shivering when it doesn't have energy left to burn.
I'm so tired.
"Mom," I whisper into the darkness. "I'm sorry."
Outside, the storm rages on.
Inside, I close my eyes.
Somewhere in the distance, I think I hear something. A sound that doesn't belong to the storm. A voice, maybe?
Or maybe it's just wishful thinking as everything fades to black.
The last thing I'm aware of is warmth. Sudden and overwhelming, like standing too close to a bonfire. And a smell that cuts through the rain and cold and fear.
Pine and smoke and musky.
Him.
But that can't be right.
Can it?
Chapter 4 - Rhett
The first drops hit the roof like bullets.
I look up from the blade I'm sharpening, frowning at the sudden darkness. The sky has turned the color of old bruises, clouds roiling and churning in a way that makes the bear stir uneasily.
This isn't a normal storm. This is the kind that kills people.
My first thought, unbidden, unwanted, is of her.
She left hours ago. She's probably back in town by now, safe in whatever house or apartment she lives in, editing her videos and eating her organic oranges.
Probably.
The rain increases, hammering against the metal roof in a deafening roar. Lightning splits the sky, and the thunder that follows is immediate, cracking like the world is breaking in half.
I set down the blade and move to the garage opening, watching the storm roll in with the kind of speed that only happens in the mountains. One moment there's visibility, the next it's a gray wall of water.
