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“I noticed.”

The bull stops thirty yards away. It snorts and shakes its head, but it doesn’t charge a third time. I keep the tree between us, weapon lowered. Seconds drag past. Finally, the moose turns. It crashes away through the forest, branches snapping beneath its weight until the sound fades into the storm.

I wait. One minute then two. Only then do I holster the pistol.

“Sophie?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Relief nearly brings me to my knees.

I look up. She clings to the branch above me. Her dark hair is plastered to her face, and one leg dangles on either side of the thick limb.

“You saved me so I can do it myself,” she adds.

“Fair.”

“Get me down.”

I step beneath her and raise my arms. “Jump.”

“No.”

“I’ll catch you.”

“That isn’t the reassuring statement you think it is.”

“I won’t drop you.”

She looks from me to the ground.

It’s an eight-foot drop at most, but the rocks below are slick.

“I can climb down,” she says.

She shifts her weight. Her boot slides. Sophie yelps as she falls from the branch.

I catch her. Her arms fly around my neck. Her legs lock around my waist, and her face buries itself against my shoulder.

Everything inside me stops. She is trembling. Not a slight shiver from the cold. Her whole body shakes against mine. Her breaths come fast and warm against my neck, and her fingers clutch the back of my jacket as if she’ll never let go.

I hold her tighter. I have imagined touching Sophie more times than I can count. In the darkest hours before morning, I let myself picture impossible things. Her hand in mine. Her body tucked against my side before the fire. Her head resting on my chest while she sleeps.

Some nights, my imagination goes further. I never imagined this. But having her cling to me reaches someplace so deep inside my chest that I can barely contain it.

She needs me. Right now, in this storm, she needs my arms around her. I slide one hand up her back and cradle the rear of her head with the other.

“I’ve got you.”

“You almost got killed.”

“No.”

“That thing hit you.”

“Barely.”

“You could have died.” Her voice breaks on the last word. My heart pounds hard enough that she must feel it.