I close my eyes. Thank God.

Without another word, he darts to the left, near the ravine, and pulls off his hood, leaving him in his black ski cap to see better. He takes my hand as we stumble and slide down the hill.

The sky bellows again, and wind sweeps through the narrow valley, flakes stinging my face as they hit. I pull my warmer up over my mouth and nose, seeing lightning strike across the sky.

I whip around, worried.

“Shit,” Noah exclaims, pulling me faster. “Come on.”

We trail as fast as we can through the deep snow, but my muscles are burning, and my fingers are frozen through my gloves. I fist my hands.

The wind rushes, trapped between two mountains, and all I can hear is my pulse in my ears.

“How much farther?” I shout.

“I have no idea!” Noah tells me, pointing to the line of snow between the trees. “We just follow this!”

A shot of lightning strikes suddenly, hitting a spruce on the incline above us, and I scream.

Noah falls, startled, and I lean over to grab him. “Noah!”

I grit my teeth, using every muscle I have to lift him out of the snow.

He pulls his hood back up and grabs hold of me, hugging me to keep me warm.

“It’s only going to get worse,” he says. “We need to pitch a tent and wait this out!”

“We’re not pitching a tent with metal rods on a mountain in a lightning storm!” I tell him, backing away. “Let’s go!”

I lead the way, taking us through the valley and climbing over snow-covered boulders toward Kaleb. I hum to myself, squeezing my fists to keep the blood flowing, knowing each step brings us closer to the cabin.

I’m worried he’s not okay. It’s been so long.

I’m also worried I’ll want to kill him for disappearing like this. How dare he just live up here like nothing matters. I don’t care if we fight. I’m actually looking forward to it. Just as long as he’s there and just as long as he’s breathing.

Pebbles hit my hood, the tap against the fabric sporadic but hard. I tip my face up, bullets of ice belting my cheeks.

I dip my head back down, crouching under the onslaught. “Sleet!”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Noah growls.

He takes my hand, and we run, seeing a cave ahead. Racing toward the entrance, we dive inside, out of the wind, snow, and ice, and I pull my hood off and my warmer down, wiping off my face with my gloved hand.

“You okay?” Noah asks.

“Yeah.”

My face burns, and I’m afraid to look at it. I can just hear Jake now. Why would you do something so stupid?

And he’d be right. This was dumb.

I’d probably still do it again, though.

Noah shivers, shaking out his coat and blowing into his hands.

“I thought you grew up here?” I tease.

“Shut up.”

I smile. Tenderfoot.

I go to take off my pack, but then I look up, feeling snow still falling on my face. Light enters above us, and I look to my right, seeing more light ahead.

This isn’t a cave.

It’s a tunnel.

Walking toward the exit, I clutch the straps of my pack and step into the open, pulling my hood up again. Snow falls, the wind sweeps through, and I feel the tiny taps of sleet hitting my jacket, but it’s calmer than on the other side of the wall.

Much calmer.

Trees loom over us, clusters of firs and spruces dressed with snow, and I hear the water. Rock walls surround the glen, which is about half the size of a football field, the only entrance I see is the one we just came through. The area is shielded by rocks and trees, but the weather still swoops in from above, open to the sky and bringing in the cold, snow, and wind, albeit not as fierce.

Looking up, I see the cabin on the hill.

“Oh, thank you, God!” Noah cries out behind me.

My heart leaps, and I close my eyes, smiling.

“Kaleb!” Noah shouts.

He runs, and I race after him, up the small hill and toward the cabin. I let my pack fall off me, and I drag it up onto the small porch.

Noah drops his, too, our rifles strapped to the packs and both of us kicking our snow-caked boots against the little house. “At least, I’m not going to die now,” he grumbles, “because if I’d gotten you killed, they would’ve killed me.”

I laugh, leaving my pack and throwing open the door.

“Kaleb!” I call, entering the house.

But even before I can get my bearings, my smile falls.

He’s not here.

Liquid heat pumps through my body, and I don’t think I breathe. Jake was right when he said this place wasn’t for me. It’s one room with a stove, a fireplace, and two beds. There are three windows, no other doors, and no bathroom. It’s a place to cook and sleep when they fish, nothing more.

The wet air permeates, and I look around, grasping onto anything to give me hope this wasn’t all for nothing.

“He’s not here,” Noah says, squeezing past me.

“Has he been, though?” I ask. “He could be out hunting.”

He walks to the stove, picking up a pot. From here, I can see the remnants of something inside it.

“It’s frozen.” He shakes his head. “He was here, I think. The dishes aren’t dusty, so they’ve been washed recently, but it’s been a couple days, at least.”

Walking over to the rumpled bed, I lift the sheet to my nose. The cold and the cabin are the only scents I find, though.

“Where else would he go?” I drop the sheet. “Could he be heading back to the house and we missed him?”

“He wouldn’t have left these guns.” Noah pulls out a rifle, and I see others tucked in the corner.

The guns.

You left yourself unprotected.

Noah’s words come back to me, and I walk over, seeing three rifles standing in the corner, one I know Kaleb uses a lot. If he’s out, he would have it. Why doesn’t he have it?

I back away, a sob lodged in my throat. Where the fuck is he?

The dishes, the dirty pot, the guns…he was here. Where did he go and when?

I breathe hard, unable to control where my fears are going as tears fill my eyes.

Noah approaches, taking my shoulders. “Let’s take it slow. We don’t know anything.”

I twist away from him, though, pulling one of the rifles out of the corner and checking to make sure it’s loaded. Thunder cracks outside again, and snow pummels the windows.

“Let’s go,” I tell him.

“We’re not going out in this again.”

“Noah!” I whip around to face him. “He wouldn’t be out there willingly in this. He could be injured or—”

“If you go out there, you’re dead!” he growls. “And then I’m dead, because I’ll have to follow you, and I know almost less than you do about surviving up here! I’m putting my foot down. We wait out the storm.”

He’s right. I know he’s right, but is he serious? I can’t sit here all night. How can he?

I look at the door.

What if a wolf or a bear got to him? What if he’s cold and dying?

A tear spills over as my feet itch to run. What if he died out there months ago, his bones rotting in the snow?

I debate making a run for it.