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25

JENSEN

T hey move like shadows through the trees, always just visible enough to make sure we know they’re there. Guiding us. Herding us. Playing with their prey.

I count a dozen of them now, keeping pace effortlessly despite the deep snow. Some bear the tattered remains of hiking gear or winter clothing, suggesting they were once ordinary people who came to these mountains and never left. Others wear older garments, so weathered and filthy it’s impossible to guess their original form or era. Maybe some of them are the McAlisters themselves, or the pioneers Jake and Eve McGraw encountered.

All have the same unnatural blue eyes. All move with the same predatory grace. And all watch us with patient hunger, content to wait for whatever end they have planned.

“We need to distract them,” I say to Aubrey, keeping my voice low as we pick our way carefully along the trail they’ve left open to us. Cole and I ride on Harry, keeping abreast with Jeopardy. All three of us have our weapons raised and ready, unsure if they will help. Eli, meanwhile is unconscious across Jeopardy’s withers, and much too pale.

“How?” Aubrey whispers.

“I’m not sure,” I say, feeling so fucking helpless that it gnaws at my bones. The adrenaline and sleepless nights of the last few days are starting to take their toll and my brain is feeling fuzzy and useless at the wrong fucking time.

Meanwhile, the sky has begun to darken, not just with the approaching sunset but with gathering clouds. The clear morning has given way to a threatening afternoon, the wind picking up, carrying the scent of snow. A storm is coming, and soon.

“There’s an old trapper’s cabin near here,” I eventually say, just as the first snowflakes begin to swirl around us. “If I’m right about where they’re taking us, we might be able to reach it before the storm hits in full. We could barricade ourselves inside.”

“And if they don’t want us to?” Aubrey asks, nodding toward our silent escorts still pacing us through the trees.

“Then we find out just how determined they are,” I reply, patting my rifle. It’s bravado, and we both know it. Our weapons didn’t stop Hank in the end. Who knows if Red is still dead. Might have had to bash his brains in for nothing. If all of these hungry ones decided to attack at once, we wouldn’t stand a chance.

The snow begins falling more heavily and the temperature drops, the wind cutting through my jacket. Eli stirs against Aubrey, mumbling incoherently, his face flushed with fever despite the cold.

A crack sounds sharply to our left—a branch breaking under weight of snow.

Before any of us can react, the tree line erupts with movement. Two of the hungry ones burst from the shadows near us, moving with that unnaturally fluid speed, no longer content to watch from a distance. They cross the open ground between forest and trail in seconds, blue eyes locked on us, teeth bared in feral anticipation.

Harry rears, kicking his front legs out at the attackers, then drops low to buck behind him. I twist to see him get one of the creatures in the head, one that was just about to attack from the rear, but the relief is short-lived when Cole loses his balance and pulls me off with him.

We both tumble to the snow as Harry bolts for the trees.

Cole is the first to get up and stagger away, Jeopardy moving between us as if to protect me, as the creatures come at us again, this time on the opposite side of the horse.

Jeopardy rears now, giving just enough space for me to get low and shoot, getting one of the monster’s in the kneecaps. It cries out and falls down into the snow in a bloody heap just as Jeopardy twists and brings his hooves down on their head, crushing their brains.

But Cole is screaming as another creature grabs him, and Aubrey is trying to prevent Jeopardy from running off. I wish she would, she could get to safety with Eli and leave me here.

But she’s aiming her gun while balancing Eli against her. She fires twice at the monster that has Cole in rapid succession, the sound cracking across the mountainside. The creature jerks as the bullet strikes, a spray of dark fluid erupting from its shoulder, but it doesn’t stop.

I run around Jeopardy’s body, taking aim as Cole struggles to his feet, reaching for the knife at his belt, his pistol in the snow beside him. “Run!” I shout to him, squeezing off a shot that catches the creatures in the chest. Like Aubrey’s bullet, it seems to do little more than annoy it.

Cole manages three stumbling steps before another monster comes barreling out of the trees and reaches him, tackling him back to the ground with bone-crushing force. The other is on him in an instant, a writhing mass of pale limbs and snapping teeth. Cole’s scream cuts through the falling snow, high and desperate, before it chokes off in a wet gurgle.

My bullets can’t save him now.

Nothing can.

“We have to help him!” Aubrey cries, trying to control Jeopardy.

“We can’t,” I say. Blood sprays across the snow, vivid red against pristine white. Cole’s arm rises from the mass of bodies, still clutching his knife, before it’s dragged back down. “He’s our distraction.”

In one quick motion I reach under Eli’s body to grab the saddle horn and then swing my legs up, using all the energy I have. I slide onto his back behind the saddle, Jeopardy protesting at the added weight, but we have no choice.

“Go!” I yell and Jeopardy bursts into a gallop despite the treacherous snow. The hungry ones not occupied with Cole continue to pace us through the trees, still herding, still guiding our flight exactly where they want us to go, but even at their top speed, we’re faster.

Eventually they’re left behind, though I know they won’t be behind for long.

We ride in grim silence, the only sounds the heavy breathing of Jeopardy beneath us and his hooves thundering through the snow. Cole’s screams echo in my mind, the bright spray of his blood against the snow a vivid afterimage whenever I close my eyes, and I’ve already seen my fair share of horror today.

Another one gone. Another life claimed by these mountains, by the hunger that waits in their shadows.

I glance down over Aubrey’s shoulder at Eli, lying there motionless except for Jeopardy’s movement. Deep down I know that I’m about to lose my one true friend as well. I’m doing my best not to dwell on it, because if I do, I know I’ll start thinking about how futile this whole situation is.

I probably won’t only lose Eli. I might lose Aubrey too.

If that happens, I won’t make it either.

The storm intensifies around us, snow falling so thickly now that it’s becoming difficult to see more than a few yards ahead. The cold settles in around us, coating us in ice. I can barely feel my legs, my hands are numb as they wrap around Aubrey’s coat.

“There,” I say finally, pointing toward a dark smudge against the whiteness ahead. “I think that’s it.”

We urge Jeopardy forward, picking up the pace despite the deepening snow and the burden he carries. As we draw closer, the smudge resolves into a small cabin nestled against a granite outcropping and thick forest. It’s old, weathered by countless Sierra winters, but sturdy—stone foundation, thick timber walls, steep roof designed to shed heavy snow. A trapper’s cabin dating back to the Gold Rush era, maintained over decades by hunters and backcountry skiers as an emergency shelter.

Right now, it looks like salvation.

“Don’t like this,” Aubrey mutters as we approach, her teeth chattering loudly. “What makes you think we won’t be sitting ducks?”

“We’re ducks no matter how you slice it. We don’t have a choice. Eli needs shelter, and the storm’s only getting worse. We’ll get hyperthermia if we’re out here a moment longer.” And from the way that Aubrey is starting to shake, I worry it might already have a hold.

We dismount awkwardly, supporting Eli between us as we make our way to the cabin door. Jeopardy stands patiently in the worsening storm, steam rising from his flanks after the hard ride.

The cabin door is stiff with frost but unlocked, swinging open to reveal a simple one-room interior. A stone fireplace dominates one wall, shelves stocked with basic provisions line another, and a narrow cot sits beneath the single window.

“Get him to the cot,” I direct, helping Aubrey maneuver Eli’s limp form through the door. “I’ll start a fire.”

The cabin is bitterly cold, our breath forming white clouds in the stale air. I kneel at the hearth, finding it already laid with kindling and split logs—the backcountry code of leaving things ready for the next visitor in need. My hands shake slightly from cold and adrenaline as I strike a match from a pack on the mantel, coaxing the flame to catch on the dry pine needles.

“I need to check on Jeopardy,” I say, once the fire has caught, flames beginning to lick at the larger logs. “Get the rest of our gear.”

Aubrey looks up from tending Eli, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion and grief. “Be careful,” she says simply.

I nod, then step back into the storm.

The cold hits like a physical blow, the wind driving snow into every exposed inch of skin. Visibility has dropped to almost nothing, the world beyond the cabin door a swirling white void. Jeopardy stands where we left him, head lowered against the driving snow, a dark shape against the whiteness.

My heart sinks at the sight.

I should bring him into the cabin. The floor space is limited, but we could make room. Keep him safe from whatever stalks us through the trees.

But even as I consider it, I know it’s not possible. The hungry ones know we are here, there’s no doubt. If Jeopardy remains, he’ll become a target—or worse, leverage to force us back outside.

“I’m sorry, boy,” I murmur, stroking his frost-crusted mane. “We’ve been through a lot together, you and me.”

The decision forms in my mind, instinctive and necessary. I quickly remove his saddle and bridle, setting them in the shelter of the cabin’s overhang, then grab the rest of the gear and packs from him. He watches me with intelligent eyes, sensing something important is happening.

“You need to go,” I tell him, running my hand down his neck, my teeth chattering now. “Find your way home. You know the trails better than any of them.”

It feels ridiculous, talking to a horse as if he can understand, but Jeopardy and I have covered thousands of miles of mountain trails together. If any horse can navigate back to the ranch, it’s him. I have faith.

I kiss his nose, tasting of snow, and give him one final pat before stepping back. “Get!” I urge him, giving him a sharp slap on the flank. “Get out of here! Go back to the ranch. Go home!”

He hesitates only a moment before instinct takes over, turning and bolting away into the storm, quickly disappearing into the swirling white back the way we came. I watch until he’s completely gone from sight, throat tight with emotion I can’t afford to acknowledge. Jeopardy has been more than just a mount. He’s been companion, partner, friend through years of riding these mountains.

I can only pray I’ll see him again.

Back inside the cabin, Aubrey has managed to clean Eli’s wound and dress it with fresh bandages. His fever hasn’t broken, but he seems more comfortable, resting more peacefully on the cot.

“Jeopardy?” she asks, looking up as I stomp snow from my boots.

“Gone,” I say simply. “I set him free.”

She nods, understanding in her eyes. “You think he’ll make it back to the ranch?”

“He knows the way,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “Better than I do, sometimes. Hopefully he’ll be there in no time, a reunion with the others. Or hopefully some skier finds him, gives him a home. Either way…”

He’s better off than us , I finish.

We fall into silence, the only sounds Eli’s labored breathing and the crackling of the fire as we stand around it. Outside, the storm rages on, wind howling around the cabin’s corners, finding every crack and crevice to send icy drafts across the floor. The fire doesn’t seem to be doing anything and I’m starting to worry about us.

When night falls fully, it brings a deeper cold that seems to penetrate to the bone. Despite the fire, now burning low as we conserve wood, the temperature in the cabin has dropped dangerously. Frost forms on the inside of the window, crystalline patterns spreading across the glass like reaching fingers.

Aubrey sits beside me, huddled in her coat, shivering visibly despite her efforts to hide it. Her lips have taken on a bluish tinge, her fingers clumsy with cold as she tries to warm them.

“You’re showing signs of hypothermia,” I say quietly, not wanting to disturb Eli who has finally fallen into deeper sleep.

“I’m fine,” she insists, but the slight slurring of her words betrays her.

“No, you’re not.” I stand, moving to my pack. “Neither of us is. We need to warm up, now or we’ll fall asleep and none of us will survive the night.”

I pull out my sleeping bag, rated for alpine conditions but still barely adequate for the temperatures. One sleeping bag, meant for one person.

“We need to share body heat,” I say, unrolling the sleeping bag by the fire. “It’s our only option.”

Aubrey stares at me, understanding dawning in her eyes despite the cold-induced sluggishness of her thoughts. “You mean…”

“I mean get naked,” I say bluntly. “Both of us. In the sleeping bag. It’s that, or freeze to death before morning.”