The trail back felt longer than the trail in. The snow that had seemed merely difficult on the way in now felt actively hostile. Every step seemed to announce their position, and every drift slowed them when speed felt necessary.
He kept his pace steady anyway.
Kori didn’t ask questions. She moved behind him with a focused quiet.
He appreciated the silence—it helped him listen for any signs of trouble. Thunder also seemed to be on guard, poised to alert him if anyone came close.
Wyatt really hoped that didn’t happen.
Finally, the trees began to thin, and the trail widened.
Through the canopy ahead, Wyatt caught sight of open sky—the flat gray stretch above the parking lot.
He exhaled slowly.
They’d made it back.
Kori was safe.
Nothing had happened to her out in the forest.
Thank You, Jesus.
A few steps later, they broke through the trees and into the open.
The cold felt sharper and less sheltered here. The lot stretched in front of them, empty except for Wyatt’s truck and Mackenzie’s Subaru.
“What now?” Kori asked. “What’s our next plan?”
Wyatt didn’t answer right away.
Something felt . . . off. But what?
He scanned the lot, his gaze moving from one vehicle to the next.
Then it landed on his truck.
He slowed.
Snow had drifted up along the tires—but not evenly or naturally.
He took another step, his focus narrowing.
And then he saw it . . . what was bothering him.
His tires were flat.
