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T he wind slices through my jacket like a knife as I grip the edges of my snowboard, trying not to fall. I hate this. I hate everything about it. The cold. The snow. The fact that I’m careening down an actual mountain like a suicidal penguin.

Chase is ahead of me, looking annoyingly flawless as he shreds powder, as if he were born not only with a silver spoon in his mouth but also a snowboard strapped to his feet.

Just as perfect as he is on his surfboard.

It drives me crazy how effortlessly good he is at literally everything .

But wearing all black, with that ski mask, goggles, and a helmet…

damn, he’s forgiven. It doesn’t get any better than that.

Behind me, I can hear Mia screaming—whether in joy or terror, I’m not sure. Either way, it’s fitting background noise for the hell I’m currently enduring. Meanwhile, Vicky zooms past us all on her skis, flaunting her talent like a show pony.

“Babe, lean into the turn!” Chase calls over his shoulder, mid-air as he launches off a small mound of snow, popping his snowboard into a jump.

“I’m leaning!” I shout back, wobbling dangerously. My legs burn, and I’m pretty sure my thighs will never forgive me for this.

And then it happens.

I hit a patch of ice—or maybe my body just gives up—and suddenly, I’m sliding. Fast. Too fast. The trail blurs as I veer off-track, the cheerful chaos of my friends’ voices fading into silence.

“Shit!” I yell, trying to dig the edge of my board into the snow, but it’s useless at this point. Gravity is an asshole.

The world tilts, and I tumble into the thick stretch of trees to the side. Pine branches whip past me, clawing at my jacket, tearing at my face, scraping at my sanity.

Finally, I come to a stop, half-buried in a snowbank. My snowboard sticks up at an awkward angle nearby, and my lungs burn from the cold air.

“Fucking great,” I mutter, pushing myself upright. I lean against a massive pine tree, trying to catch my breath.

That’s when I notice it .

The silence.

Not the peaceful kind, like a yoga retreat or whatever. This silence is wrong. Dense. Too quiet. And that’s what freaks me out the most. Like, it’s so quiet, it feels as though the forest is holding its breath and the snow is listening.

A shiver runs down my spine, and it’s not from the cold. It’s fucking creepy here.

“Hello?” My voice wavers as I peer into the trees.

Nothing.

I try to laugh it off. “Real original, Emma. Spook yourself out alone in the woods. Classic move.”

But then I hear it.

A crunch.

Not the light, fluffy kind that snow makes when it falls. This is deliberate. Heavy. Like someone—or something —is moving.

My heart pounds. “Chase? Is that you?” I call, my voice sounding much smaller than I’d like.

No answer.

I lift up my goggles and squint into the trees, but all I see is white. White snow, white air, white nothingness. It’s suffocating, like the world has been erased.

The feeling hits me next. Like eyes on the back of my neck. A presence—massive, predatory—just beyond my line of sight. My chest tightens, and every instinct I have is screaming RUN .

“Okay, very funny,” I say, my voice cracking. “Whoever’s out there, you win. I’m officially freaked out.”

The forest doesn’t respond.

Another crunch. Closer this time.

I press myself harder against the tree, my breathing shallow. I strain my ears, desperate for more. Was that… a growl? No, no, it was just the wind. Just the wind.

Except the wind doesn’t sound wet. Or low. Or hungry.

“Seriously, stop!” I shout, my voice echoing through the trees.

A shadow flickers at the edge of my vision, huge and too fast. I whip my head toward it, and my eyes dart back and forth, scanning the forest, but there’s nothing there

The crunching stops.

The silence stretches, heavy as a stone, pressing down on me.

“Chase?” My voice is barely a whisper now.

More nothing.

And then the crunching starts again, but not from where it stopped. It’s behind me. Right behind me.

I spin around, the tree bark, digging into my back even through my thick layers, and something—an enormous shape—seems to loom in the periphery of my vision.

No, it’s just the snow… I don’t know, everything is white.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the silence. Not human. Not animal, either.

My breath comes in short, panicked gasps, my heartbeat pounds in my ears, my knees tremble. I’m frozen in sheer terror, like something primal has rooted me in place .

Next, there’s a rough inhale, as if that thing sniffs the air.

Is this a good time to make amends with the Upstairs? God, you there?

And then, out of nowhere, something grabs me.

I yelp, flailing, until I hear Chase’s familiar laugh. His arms close around me, pulling me into his chest.

“Easy, babe, it’s just me!” he says, holding me steady.

“For fuck’s sake, Chase!” I snap, shoving him away. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

His chuckle falters when he sees my face. “Hey, are you good? You look… pale.” He takes off his glove and gently caresses my cheek. It stings, though I’m not sure whether it’s from the cold or a cut left by branches.

I glance back at the trees, half-expecting to see someone, something, anything lurking in the shadows. But there’s nothing.

“Yeah,” I lie, brushing the snow off my jacket. “I just… thought I heard something.”

Chase tilts his head, concerned. “Probably just a squirrel or something.”

Or something .

He retrieves my snowboard, making sure no damage was done. Then, taking my mittened hand like a lobster claw, he leads the way as we head back toward the trail.

But I can’t shake the feeling. Like there’s still a ghost of a presence out there, watching.

Waiting.

And as we leave the woods, I swear I hear another crunch .

Back on the trail, we reunite with the others, who seem blissfully unaware that I nearly had a nervous breakdown in the woods. Vicky waves at us from her skis with a blinding smile as though she’s auditioning for Miss Universe, while Jay hollers something about doing shots later. Typical.

“Finally!” Mia yells, pointing at Derek. “Now we can leave before this one finds more girls to text with.”

“Let it go, pookie,” Derek grumbles. I see that he’s getting his act together after she threatened him with no action.

“Alright. Send it!” Jay calls out, prompting us to go.

We make our way downhill in a chaotic blur of limbs, snow, and profanity.

Vicky continues to be irritatingly good at skiing while Jay nearly takes out a small child.

Mia, however, yells at Derek every time he gets within five feet of her—and I already know she’s going to have a sore throat tomorrow.

Chase stays close, casually cruising alongside me and offering pointers I don’t necessarily want—but he’s just trying to be supportive.

By the time we reach the bottom, my legs feel like wet noodles, and all I dream about is a warm bath. It’s also quickly beginning to darken, with not that many people around, and none of us want to be stranded here at night.

“Groceries?” Vicky suggests as we pack up the SUV with our rented gear.

“And booze!” Jay adds, to which she rolls her eyes. “Cabin rules, sweet cheeks.”

I’m personally more worried about the basic survival tools, but I don’t want to be a party pooper so I stay silent .

We all settle inside with Chase back by the wheel, and a few minutes later, we pull into the small mountain-town grocery store.

Vicky and Jay pile bottles of tequila and craft beer into the cart, while Mia throws a bag of tortilla chips at Derek’s head as they pick out snacks.

Chase grabs the essentials and loads up on canned foods, clearly trying to win the Boyfriend of the Year award.

Meanwhile, I search the shelves for the first-aid kit and spare batteries for the flashlights. I realize I’m being fucking paranoid, but this sinking feeling is still gnawing at me.

It doesn’t help when, at the register, I overhear some tourists ahead of us in line asking weird questions to the cashier.

Their voices carry a mix of curiosity and nervous energy, and it’s clear they’re not just making casual small talk—they’re recording it on their phones like amateur social media journalists.

Apparently, people tend to go missing in these mountains more often than anywhere else in the States. Just like that.

My stomach tightens. I mean, it’s Alaska—there’s a shit ton of snow, limited resources compared to the big cities, vibrant wildlife, and mountains are universally known to be dangerous. It wouldn’t seem so weird, I suppose, if I weren’t already on edge.

Everything about this place feels… wrong .

I catch a fragment of the cashier’s response. “There are some local legends, you know, about—”

Her words are cut off abruptly when the manager appears, his scowl so deep it looks permanent .

“Go on a break, I got this,” he says, his voice flat, without a hint of courtesy. It’s not a request, but an order.

The tourists try to press him, asking more questions, but the man doesn’t budge. His face is stone, like he’s carved from the same cold, silent mountain that looms just outside. He doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, his gray eyes narrowing slightly, as though daring them to speak again.

Maybe he’s the store owner. Either way, I bet he doesn’t need any silly, old stories to unsettle his customers.

But I’m already unsettled.

And I don’t find it silly at all.

“Did you know about this?” I ask in a whisper, leaning closer to Vicky.

The man’s head suddenly snaps toward us.

A strange, crawly sensation runs up my spine, and my breath catches in my throat as our eyes lock.

There's something dark behind his gaze, something… knowing. Like he’s seen things, too.

The kind of things that shouldn’t be spoken of. Things that shouldn’t be remembered.

My body goes cold, and I push myself past the line, feeling too claustrophobic.

I linger by the store window, staring out at the snow-covered empty street as I wait for others to check out. Everything seems off. The town is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you feel like you’re being spied on.