She headed down the shoveled path toward the dog. Whistled again, patting her legs.
Caspian barked, turned in a circle, then barked again.
He wanted to play.
Scamp was right.
Picking up her pace, she hustled out toward him. He sat, his tail swishing, then got up as she drew near and began to bark and back away.
“C’mon,” she said, lunging for him.
He turned and took off.
For the love. “Caspian!” But of course, her voice didn’t carry. She crunched after him, past the shoveled area, out into the deep snow. It had crusted over in parts, so her steps crashed through layers, slowing her.
Caspian skittered on the top of the crust, breaking through in spots.
Only then did she spot the boot marks. Smaller steps flattened by what looked like the trail of a sled.
Her gut tightened, and she sped up.
Caspian waited for her at the edge of a field, just past the town, at the opening of what looked like a deer trail through the woods.
She paused, glanced back at the community. The bite of the chain saws still ground through the air.
“Okay. Slow down!” She fought her way to the forest edge and then into the bunker of trees. Here, the snow drifted but hadn’t layered as deep. Caspian stood at the far end of the trail where it opened to a wide, cleared area. Maybe a logging trail, although it seemed nearly twenty feet wide, not painfully steep, but...
The sledding hill that Wren had mentioned.
Keely stepped out into the pristine white, and there, the footsteps led out to a matting of snow and sled marks.
The sledding trail cut through the snow, not deep, evidence, maybe, of a child’s weight. It tracked down the slope and then ... oh no, veered off into the trees.
“Good boy, Caspian.” Keely followed the trail, running slash falling down the slope. She landed headfirst into the powder—snow plunged down her jacket—then rolled and forced herself back up, breathing hard. Caspian ran beside her, around her, nudging her.
“Okay, okay—” She stood, shook off the snow. Her cheeks burned, the snow sharp with cold.
The sledding trail led into the forest, breaking twigs and brush, and twenty feet in ended at a shaggy tree. Splinters of wood scattered the area, the broken carcass of a wooden toboggan cast to the side. Wren.
Keely worked her way to the edge of the tree and lifted the branches.
Wren. She lay at the bottom of a circle of snow near the trunk, her eyes closed, blood emitting from her mouth.
“Wren!” Keely plopped onto her stomach, reaching into the hole. Some five feet deep, easily. If Keely went in headfirst, she’d never escape.
She turned around and slid down into the hole, feetfirst.
Wren groaned as Keely touched her. “Wren? It’s Keely.” Wren lay on her side, but what if she’d hit her head, broken her neck—
Wren started to cry, reached up for Keely. Before she could stop her, Wren wrapped her arms around her waist. “It was too fast!”
“Okay. Shh. I’m here.”
Above her, Caspian barked.
“Get help, Casp!”
The dog barked again.
