He drew a breath, steadying her with one hand while his gaze followed Swan’s retreating form. A pang of frustration hit him, but it was tempered by a flicker of regret—not for the horse, but for Maddie’s startled expression. “I see her,” he murmured. “She’ll be fine. She knows these paths better than either of us.”
“But she ran,” Maddie pressed, her tone uncertain. “Why didn’t you tie her up?”
Sebastian met her gaze, his own calm and unshaken. “Because I wanted her trust, not shackles,” he said simply. “A horse bolts when it feels trapped. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”
For a moment, Maddie said nothing. She studied him with a searching expression, her lips parting as though words were on the tip of her tongue. But then she surprised him with a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Trust, not shackles,” she echoed, almost to herself. “I suppose that should apply to more than just horses.”
The rumble at first was faint, so low she almost convinced herself it wasn’t growing louder. Maddie barely noticedit over her laughter, but Swan did. The horse reared her head, ears flipping back. A sharp whinny echoed across the hills as Swan darted off through the snow, her hooves kicking up powder as she vanished down the slope.
Maddie turned instinctively, catching the concern etched in Sebastian’s face. The sound returned, louder now and closer, rolling through her chest as if the earth itself groaned with effort. Her eyes traced the hills in the distance, and she froze, her breath shallow. A sheer patch of snow slid away from a ridge, swift and smooth as a wave breaking on a shore. It couldn’t be dangerous, could it? But then another slab broke free nearby. And another.
“Maddie…” Sebastian’s voice was low, tight, shaking with something she couldn’t place.
She tore her gaze from the hills to him, alarm building as his posture stiffened. His hand raised slightly, as if to halt her from moving even though she hadn’t dared to yet.
“What’s happening?” Her own voice sounded fragile in the frigid air.
“A rockslide. Snow on top.” His words came so clipped it barely registered.
Her brows knitted together. “You mean like an avalan—”
But her voice faltered when his eyes darted behind her, the sudden shift in focus pinning her in place. Her stomach dropped. She turned slowly, her heart hammering in her chest, and saw it. A great white cloud burst outward like a ghost clawing its way up the hill. Snow rolled sideways and upward, billowing higher as it swallowed everything in its path. Beneath it, rocks trapped beneath the snow churned forward with a grinding, hollow roar.
The air wasn’t air anymore. It thickened with the sound, the sheer power growing louder and closer until her knees locked, unsure where to go. The cold grew sharper somehow.
“Maddie!” His shout came a second before his hand caught her shoulder and pulled. She would’ve screamed if she had breath to spare,but all she felt was the sharp burn of impact as her body crashed into the snow.
Her face hit first, the icy sting clawing at her skin. For a moment, the world was an endless smear of pale frost and blinding white. Then something warm barreled into her, heavy and solid.
Her lungs fought for air as the snow pressed cold against her lips, seeping through her gloves and the hem of her coat, freezing her to her core. She shifted slightly, trying to raise her head, but the weight on her back crushed her farther into the endless frost.
Maddie tried again to breathe, but nothing came. Her chest flared in panic, an aching vacuum where air should have been. She blinked furiously, desperate to see more than the endless darkness pressing against her.
Suffocating.
Cold.
Her heart thudded wildly, a frantic beat that seemed to mock her helplessness. She clawed at the snow with trembling fingers, the icy compactness denying her every effort. Between the numbness spreading through her body and the crushing pressure above, she couldn’t tell where she ended and the snow began. And Sebastian? Was he still keeping the worst of it from her, or had he been buried, dragged down into the weight of it all?
She tried to speak his name, but her throat felt tight, dry, as though the snow had filled every space inside her. Panic churned in her stomach. If she couldn’t see him, didn’t feel him move soon, then surely… Her mind reeled with possibilities she couldn’t bear to finish. Was he just inches away, struggling as she was? Or—as dread pushed at the edges of her fraying thoughts—had he been crushed beneath the merciless weight?
“Sebastian,” she managed, her voice weak and hoarse. It barely broke the cold silence. The only sound in response was the faint, unrelenting hiss of her shallow,ineffective breaths.
Snow.
Everywhere.
Heavy and relentless. Maddie wanted to move, to claw at it, to fight it off of her body, but her muscles refused. Her back burned under the cold press of soaked fabric, and her cheeks raw from contact with the freezing ground. Blinking hard didn’t stop the flickering streams of white that seemed fixed in her view.
Then something shifted slightly above her, and her awareness zeroed in on the faint scrape of his breath brushing the nape of her neck.
Sebastian.
He wasn’t fully collapsed, propped up somehow by sheer will and trembling arms just above her.
“Maddie,” he rasped.
She tried to respond, tried to turn her head to look at him. But the snow didn’t allow it, and her body stiffened with the effort. It took too long, every motion sluggish and wrong as though her mind had detached from her limbs. “I’m…” It came out broken, weak, and unfinished.
