Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“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.