I whistled for a bit, listened more hopefully. If I had missed Glenmore, I should have passed civilization a half hour ago. I should have come across a road, even a snow-packed one. I had been watching, not wallowing or zoning out. I’d been watching like my life depended on it.
Which, ya know…
I closed my eyes for a few minutes, just to warm them up. I counted again, heartbeats, out loud, to make sure I didn’t fall asleep.
The original route had included the Ryovan Pass and a bridge in there somewhere. Nessy or Nethy Bridge maybe? The whole trip was to last 2.5 to 3 hours depending on skill. I figured they wouldn’t start worrying for another 30 minutes. Half an hour after that, they’d be out looking in force, weather allowing.
Phillip and Margo were probably already in a hot tub or enjoying a hot lunch.
I was such an idiot. I’d gone too far in who knows what direction. If there were markers, I hadn’t seen one, even while I was still with the group.
Somewhere, very far away, some animal called out.
Definitely not a wolf, I told myself. A fox or something? I conjured the picture of something cute and furry and incredibly terrified of humans. It was the only image I could handle. I had a can of something similar to bear spray, though I knew for a fact there were no bears in Scotland.
I was fine.
Absolutely fine.
However, sitting still and waiting to make friends with Scottish beasts was a bad plan. So I peed, put a fresh patch on my chest, and bundled back up. I carried my skis to the edge of the trees and stepped back into them. A few years ago, I could have outpaced anything on snow. I figured, if I were scared enough, I could still do it.
I pulled out my compass again and stared in shock when it swung around a few times and pointed in a direction I knew was wrong. I’d checked it just before finding the trees. It should have pointed to my right!
Now it pointed straight ahead.
Impossible!
I stared into the vertically flying snow and tried to see beyond it. I saw a large dark shadow—a grayness that had to be a mountain, or maybe just the stormy sky. And then a flash of light!
It disappeared so quickly, I wondered if it was my brain misfiring. It had been blue. Like…like nothing I could explain.
I pulled out my whistle and blew hard, three times. Then I tried S.O.S. Then hard and long until I started seeing stars swirling around my head like in cartoons. I knew those weren’t real. And they also weren’t blue.
It had come from straight ahead. Same direction my broken compass told me to go. So I started moving. If there was nothing out there but snow, I would dig a cave for the night. Less chance of animals finding me than sitting on a log.
That was my backup plan. My first plan was to find that light.
CHAPTER SIX
The whiteout was so complete, I couldn’t be confident about the time of day. It couldn’t be noon yet, but it was getting close enough that I expected the blizzard to be lighter when I looked straight up.
It wasn’t.
I was deluding myself. I was standing in the middle of a snow globe, in a low-lit room. And every time I took a step, the ground moved beneath me like a horizontal escalator, and I remained in the center of the dome.
I aimed my strides in the direction of that flash of blue. It couldn’t have been a reflection of light off a swirl of ice crystals. I’d seen that before. But that little trick required light in the first place, and there was none. Just white on white.
I held my compass up to see if it had come to its senses, but it hadn’t. And while I tucked it back in my pocket, the wind changed direction yet again. Instead of blowing sideways, the snow was now at my back, pushing me forward again.
“No wonder I’m lost. The snow doesn’t even know where it’s going.”
I heard something then. A tinkling, like from a small bell.
“Maybe someone’s cat is out here. Here, kitty kitty!” I laughed at myself. It made me feel better, even though I sounded like I was four minutes from losing it.
I kept my strides steady, watching for another flash, and realized the ground had changed. A steep slope rose in front of me and I stopped to judge how high it might go. A better vantage point wasn’t a bad idea.
I tipped my head back and was rewarded with another flash of blue! It disappeared over the top of the hill, showing me just how high it went.
