Clara drifted further away.
"Look, the point is, I fixed it. You win. The programs stay."
"I don't trust you."
"I know."
A snowflake landed on her eyelash and she brushed it away with her mitten. Within ten seconds, the lazy flurries had turned into a curtain of white. The wind picked up, howling through the valley like a freight train.
"Beckett." Clara looked at the sky. "We need to go."
"It's just snow."
"The wind is coming from the North. You should remember what that means." She turned to whistle for the dog. "Dash! Come!"
The dog was at the tree-line, barking furiously at something in the shadows. A deer? A coyote? Whatever it was, he’d decided it was more interesting than a random guy showing up to grovel to his owner. He bolted into the woods.
"Dash! No!" Clara screamed. She skating hard toward the far end of the rink.
"Clara, stop! You're in skates!"
She didn't listen. She hopped off the ice and scrambled up the snowbank, running awkwardly on her blades.
"Shit." I looked at the rental car. It was barely visible through the white wall of snow. Clara's puffy coat, disappeared into the woods.
I grabbed her boots and I ran after her.
By the time I caught up, Clara was sitting in a drift. Her hands shook as she tried to unhook the laces on her skates. Wind gusts whipped snow from the field into small tornadoes and the icy pellets drilled into my cheeks.
"He went that way," she choked out, pointing into the forest. "I have to get him."
"You are not going in there without boots." I dropped to my knees in the snow. "Let me."
"I can do it."
She swatted at my hand like it was summer and I was a mosquito.
"Clara, stop fighting me for one second!" I batted her hands and yanked the laces loose. I pulled the stiff boot off her left foot, then her right. She shoved her feet into her Sorel boots.
"Dash!" She screamed into the wind.
A faint bark answered from ahead.
We stumbled forward into the knee-deep snow. The trees provided a little cover from the wind, but the visibility was still zero.
"There!" Clara shouted.
Dash's collar was snagged on a mess of sumac branches. Clara collapsed on top of the dog, burying her face in his wet fur. "You idiot. You bad, bad boy."
I grabbed his collar before he could decide to bolt deeper into the woods. "We have to go back. Now."
Clara stood up, pulled a leash from the pocket of her jacket, and clipped it on with trembling fingers. She turned around, and I saw the fear in her eyes. "Which way is the rink?"
"We have to follow our tracks before they get buried. I have no idea what direction to go if we lose them," I admitted. The tracks we'd made were already filling with fresh powder.
"We need to go. Now." She scooped her dog into her arms. "His paws are frozen."
My face was already numb. "Clara. I've got him." I took the dog from her arms. "Hold onto the belt on my coat."
