The cold hit harder than before. Night had already settled. The sky clear, sharp tracks. He found them fast, small, unsteady, heading uphill, away from the creek, away from safety. Clara.
The wind carried his voice away. He followed anyway. Faster, higher. The trail narrowed. The air thinned.
Then a sound. Deep low. The ground shifted. Luke looked up. The mountain moved.
Snow broke loose above him. A wall of white came down. "Move! " He yanked the reins. Too late. The avalanche hit.
Everything turned to force and noise. He was thrown. Buried. Silence. Then breath.
Sharp. Pain burning through his shoulder. He clawed upward. Burst through the surface. Gasped air.
The world had changed. The trail gone. The mountain reshaped. "Clara. " He forced himself up. Found his horse.
Alive barely. He mounted again. Rode blind searching. Time stretched. Then a shadow under rock.
A small shape. He slid off the horse. Stumbled forward. There she was, curled tight, still frozen. "No. " He lifted her.
Too light. Too cold. He ran back down faster than before. Burst into the cabin. Fire roared again.
Blankets piled high. He stripped down without thinking. Pulled her against him. Held her tight. "Stay," he whispered.
"Stay with me. " Hours passed. Then a tremor, small, then stronger. Her body shook, breath returned. She turned in his arms, eyes opening slowly, blurry, searching Luke. His chest tightened.
"I'm here. " Her hand lifted weakly, touched his face. "I'm sorry. " "I don't care," he said. His voice broke. "I'm here. " Morning came again. Different this time.
No silence, no distance, only breath. Shared. "We can't stay," Luke said later. She nodded. "Then we don't run," she answered.
He looked at her. Something settled between them. Solid.
"We go to town," he said. "And finish it. " She held his gaze, didn't look away. This time they walked out together.