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They climbed out. Thunder landed in the snow beside him and shook himself once, already alert.
Wyatt pulled his jacket collar up and looked at the sky.
The first snowflake landed on his sleeve.
Then another.
He looked up through the canopy. The sky had gone the color of pewter. The clouds, low and heavy, pressed down over the ridgeline.
The storm was moving faster than the forecasters had predicted.
If they didn’t get off this mountain within a few hours, they wouldn’t be getting off at all—not until the storm decided it was finished with them.
“We need to move fast,” he told Kori. “Stay in the woods, out of sight. We can’t make ourselves a target or announce our arrival.”
She nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Let’s go.”
