Chapter 1 – Wendy
The forest road ends at a small gravel pull-off barely wide enough for three cars. Mine is the only one here. I cut the engine and sit for a moment, watching fat snowflakes drift past the windshield in lazy spirals.
The silence out here is immediate, the kind that wraps around you like insulation.
I glance at Bolt in the rearview mirror. He's panting against the back window, breath fogging the glass in hazy clouds, tail thumping against the seat. His leash dangles from the headrest where I hung it.
"Alright," I say, turning in my seat to look at him properly. "Quick walk. Fifteen minutes, tops."
He whines, high and insistent, and paws at the window.
I laugh softly and grab my coat from the passenger seat, shrugging into it as I step out into the cold. The air hits my face immediately carrying the clean scent of pine and fresh snow.
My boots crunch into snow that's already ankle-deep. The sound is crisp and solid beneath my weight.
I tug my hat down over my ears, the knit fabric catching on my bangs, and pull my scarf tighter around my neck. My breath clouds in front of me, white and thick.
Bolt barks once impatiently from inside the car.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming."
I open the back door and clip his leash to his collar. He practically drags me toward the trailhead, his claws scrabblingfor grip in the snow. I let him pull, smiling despite the cold already creeping through my gloves.
The path is narrow but clear enough, marked by wooden posts every twenty feet or so, weathered and dark against the white. Tall pines press in on both sides, heavy with snow, their branches sagging under the weight.
Everything is muffled. Even Bolt's paws make barely any sound as he trots ahead, nose down, tracking scents I can't begin to imagine.
It's beautiful out here. Peaceful in a way that feels almost sacred.
The snow falls steadily but gently, each flake drifting down without hurry. It clings to my eyelashes when I blink. It catches in the loose strands of hair that escaped my hat. My cheeks sting from the cold, but it’s the kind of sting that feels alive rather than painful.
I walked trails like this as a kid, back when winter meant sledding and hot chocolate and coming home with soaked mittens. This feels uncomplicated like that. Just movement and cold air and the soft crunch of snow underfoot.
Bolt pulls ahead, his leash going taut, and I let it go slack again, following at an easy pace. My thighs warm with the effort of walking through the snow, the bundled fabric rubbing against itself with each step I take.
We're maybe ten minutes in when I notice the snowfall thickening.
The flakes come faster now, smaller and denser, no longer drifting but falling with purpose. They blur the air between the trees. The trail ahead softens at the edges, details fading into white.
I glance up at the sky, what little I can see of it through the canopy. It's a flat, featureless gray, pressing down like a low ceiling.
A faint unease prickles at the back of my mind.
"Maybe we should head back," I murmur, more to myself than to Bolt.
He doesn't look back at me. He's fixated on something ahead, ears pricked forward, body tense and still. His nose quivers.
I follow his gaze but see nothing except trees and snow and more trees.
"Bolt, come on. Let's—"
He sprints.
The leash rips through my gloved hand before I can tighten my grip, burning against my palm even through the fabric. I yelp and lunge forward, fingers grasping at empty air, but he's already gone.
I watch the blur of white fur disappearing into the trees to the left of the trail.
"Bolt!"
