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I grab a bottle of water and hand it to her before taking one for myself. “I’ll try and make some space for us to stretch out,” I tell her.
“How long are we going to be here?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “Until the storm passes. Assuming it doesn’t dump too much.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can’t take off if there is a foot of snow on the ground.”
Her mouth drops open once again.
I hold up my hand, trying to stem the fresh wave of panic I see washing over her. “We’ll just have to deal with whatever happens,” I say. “For now, let’s just try to stay warm and hydrated. I’ve got some protein bars and a bag of trail mix as well. I know it’s not the Ritz Carlton, but we’re safe enough.”
After arranging the back seats into a makeshift bed, we settle down under the emergency blankets. Mia huddles close as she sips her water. We sit in silence, listening to the howling gale outside.
The storm doesn’t let up as night falls. Instead, it intensifies. The plane creaks ominously under the strain but holds steady. Every gust of wind sends my heart racing—each one could be the one that tips the plane over. I have heard of it happening before.
The plane’s cabin, though small, helps keep the worst of the cold at bay. Our body heat is enough to keep us warm. Mia and I sit in tense silence for a while. This is not how I expected my day to go. I’m guessing she didn’t either. She’s got her camera bag tucked next to her like she’s worried it will disappear.
“So, tell me about your photography,” I say, trying to break the silence and distract her from the situation.
She looks at me, her eyes narrowing slightly, but then she sighs, and her shoulders relax a fraction. “I’m a wildlife photographer. I travel all over, capturing animals in their natural habitats. It’s more than a job; it’s a passion.”
“That sounds fascinating,” I say, genuinely interested. “What project are you currently working on?”
“My friend, Eric, is a biologist. He tracks wolves, studying their behavior and movements. He invited me up here to follow a pack and get some pictures. He’s working on a book and thought my photography would showcase how incredible these animals really are. The trail cameras are pretty low-res, so they don’t produce great pictures. This is a rare opportunity.”
“Wolves, huh?” I say, a bit incredulous. “That’s pretty hardcore. You’re brave, going after such elusive creatures in this kind of weather.”
She smiles faintly. “It’s not bravery. It’s dedication. Wolves are amazing animals. There’s so much we don’t understand about them. I want to help change that—to show people how important they are to the ecosystem. I’ve photographed them before, but it was just a few. Eric says this is a pack of at least eight.”
I nod, impressed. “Well, I hope you get your shots,” I say, leaning back against the plane’s wall. “I’ve seen wolves from the air. They’re majestic animals. But being on the ground with them is a whole different game. We hear them all the time, and I’ve seen the aftermath of one of their kills.”
“Being on the ground with any wild animals is intense,” she nods. “You can see their interactions, their hierarchy within the pack, their hunting strategies…it’s fascinating.”
“So, what is your plan?” I ask. “Lay in wait for them or try to follow them?”
“Both,” she answers. “Depending on where they are. Eric has their tracking information, so we won’t be walking around blindly.”
“Are you famous?” I ask.
She laughs softly. “Definitely not.”
“But this is your job.”
“It is,” she nods, seeming to relax a bit.
“How do you get paid? Are your pictures in galleries or museums?”
“Some galleries. Some magazines. I’m a freelancer. I don’t work for any one person or publication. I sometimes get contracted to go somewhere and get some shots. It’s all very fluid.”
We fall into silence again. It’s not unpleasant. It feels comfortable, like we’ve known each other longer than a few hours.
“So, is this typical weather for this time of year?” she asks.
“Yes and no. It’s a little late in the season, but it happens. We get hit with a storm, and then the sun comes out and melts it all off.”
The tension between us continues to ease as we talk, the storm outside seeming less threatening. The wind is still strong, but it’s starting to let up. “If the storm eases up by morning, we might have a chance to fly out of here,” I tell her.
