His nose lifted. He sniffed once. Twice. Then took two careful steps forward and froze.
Wyatt raised his fist.
They went still.
Wyatt’s focus narrowed.
There . . . at the base of a rock formation just ahead.
There was a shape partially buried in snow.
He scanned the area around him.
There was no movement or additional tracks.
Thunder stood alert but not bristling or signaling immediate threat.
Wyatt stepped forward, each movement deliberate.
The shape resolved.
It was a person.
Wyatt’s pulse kicked up, but his voice stayed controlled. “Kori, hang back.”
Behind him, her breathing shifted, becoming sharper, faster.
He took another step, eyes never leaving the figure.
Alive or dead.
He needed to know.
Kori saw the shape against the rock, and her heart stopped.
Dark jacket. Brown hair. Small frame curled against the granite as if the person was trying to disappear into it.
That was Mackenzie. It had to be!
Seven days. Seven days in this forest, injured maybe, cold definitely, alone obviously.
Her sister was thirty feet away and alive.
Something broke inside her.
Kori began moving before the thought had fully formed.
Until Wyatt’s arm came up in front of her like a gate.
“Wait,” he muttered.
“But . . .” Kori didn’t want to wait. Every cell in her body wanted to run toward the woman.
Why shouldn’t she?
The woman was on her feet before Kori had fully registered she was even moving.
Her arm jutted out, a knife gripped in her hand.
Her eyes looked wild as she swept the blade in a wide arc.
“Stay back.” Her voice sounded raw. “Stay back. Stay back. Stay back!”
This woman wasn’t Mackenzie.
The realization felt like a slap.
Not only had they not found Mackenzie, but if they weren’t careful, this woman could seriously hurt them.
