Chapter 1
Ava
Istopontheridge trail, breath fogging white in the frigid air. The cold scrapes my lungs raw with each breath. My fingers ache inside my gloves from the cold.
I love my job as a forest ranger, spending my days wandering the mountains and enjoying nature. Winter is my favorite time of year, and I love the mountain blanketed in snow, as it is now.
Not loving that sky, though…
It presses down ominously, a solid gray mass. The forecast said light snow. Maybe flurries.
This isn't flurries. This is a blizzard waiting to happen.
"Of course," I mutter, adjusting my pack. "Because a normal day in the field would be too easy."
Fresh tracks cut across the trail ahead. I crouch, knees creaking, and brush powdery snow away with one gloved hand.
Boot prints. Human tread pattern. Decent grip.
Andenormous.
I lay my palm inside one. My hand barely fills the heel. My fingers don't reach the ball.
"Who the hell are you?" I whisper. “Shaquille O’Neil?”
The prints head uphill, toward the sketchy part of the ridge. The slope is steeper and it’s prone to hidden snowdrifts. It’s a known avalanche path when the conditions take a turn for the worst.
Which they're about to.
I unclip my radio. "Base, this is Ranger Madison on Ridge Two. The weather’s about to get nasty, but I’ve got fresh tracks heading toward the upper ridge. Large solo hiker. I'm following to verify he's not camping in the danger zone."
Static crackles back. Dispatch's voice filters through, shredded by interference.
"…copy… storm… Ava, don't—"
The rest dissolves into white noise.
"Say again?"
Nothing.
My sensible side says turn around. But if this guy is where I think he is, I can't leave him there. It’s not safe… no matter how big he is.
"Twenty minutes," I mutter, glancing at the darkening clouds before following the tracks. "That's all you get."
The climb steepens fast. Snow squeaks under my boots and wind gusts push me backward. I pull my hat lower, tuck my chin into my scarf, and keep moving.
The prints are easy to follow. Long stride. Steady pace. Whoever made them knows how to walk in snow.
The old stories drift up from the back of my brain. Childhood whispers about things with tusks and glowing eyes living on the mountain.
Monsters, the kids used to say.
I shake my head, laughing at myself.Don’t be silly, Ava. You’ve worked in the woods for years. Never once have you seen signs of Bigfoot.
Still. Those boot printsareawfully big...
The snow thickens. White flakes blur the world. I check my watch.
