“You okay, Jack?” my roommate asks.
“Yeah, I’m great,” I say, hoarse from the cold and the laughter. I tear my gaze from the trees, kicking myself for slugging those two beers on an empty stomach. “Never felt so alive.”
“Too bad we only get one run,” he says.
One run. That’s all we get. The slopes are closed. The lifts are down. By the time we make the trek back up the mountain to school, itwill be nearly morning, and I’ll be a prisoner in that place for the next six months. All I want is one perfect run, a few fleeting moments when nothing’s holding me back.
“Hit it hard, Jack. No second chances.” There’s a reckless shine in his eyes as he shoves off. “Meet you at the bottom.” His skis make a softswishas they fade from sight. My eyes drift to the woods and I drag them back, ignoring the doubt creeping through my mind.
This is the one night you’re not leashed to that place. The one night you don’t have to answer to anyone. Don’t lose your nerve.
I tug my hat low over my ears and follow him. The wind sears my face, stealing my breath. The night rushes by faster than I can see ahead of me. I take the first few turns cautiously—too cautiously—avoiding the first two moguls altogether.
We only get one run... no second chances.
I loosen my knees and lean into the turns, catching wind as I hit the next mogul straight on. Suddenly, I’m flying. My heart soars in my chest. My skis touch down, skimming a crust of ice. I dig in, but the momentum pulls me like a tow rope through the dark.
The slope disappears. Exhilaration turns to panic as the trees rush at me.
With a snap, my insides shatter, wood pummeling bone. The impact tears me from my skis and throws me backward into the snow.
I lie there, eyes closed, a deafening ring in my ears. The stars shimmer as I blink myself conscious, my warm breath curling like smoke from the wreckage.
There’s no pain. Not at first. Just a low groan. The unsettling sense that something is broken. My hat’s gone, and the back of my head is drenched and cold. The last of my friends’ shouts fade downhill.
I have to catch up to them. I have to get up.
I move my...
My legs don’t respond. No pain, no cold, nothing.... I feel nothing below my waist. Nothing but fear as it seizes me.
Shit, Jack. What the hell have you done?
I open my mouth to shout for help but the words won’t come. I can’t get enough air. Pain sharpens against my ribs. It swells until there’s no room for breath or thought or anything else.
Please, no! Don’t leave me here!
The night slips in and out of focus, the pain gripping me in waves. Snow seeps into the neck of my coat. Into my gloves. My heart slows, my hands shake, and my teeth... God, my teeth won’t stop chattering.
You screwed up, Jack. You’re going to die.
“Only if you choose to.”
My breath stills. My eyes peel open at the sound of a woman’s voice. They roll toward the forest, searching, barely able to focus.
Please... help me! Please, I can’t...
The roots of the trees seem to snake up from the ground, writhing above the snow as if they’re alive. My eyes drift closed again. I’m seeing things. Hallucinating. Must have hit my head. But when I force them open, the roots are still moving, braiding themselves together, forming a raised path above the snow.
A woman appears at the end of it.
Mom?Her name catches painfully in my throat.
“You may call me Gaia,” she says.
No. Not my mother. My mother would never come. Has never come.
The woman’s long white dress glows against the dark, her shape becoming clearer as she approaches. The walkway under her feet grows, extending toward me with each of her steps. The woven roots twist and fold into a set of stairs a moment before she descends them, then unravel behind her, disappearing into the snow.
