Page 130 of Gunnar

No clear path. No footprints. Just white settling over everything.

Okay.

I pick a direction and start walking.

Ten steps.

The trees shift.

The ground dips⁠—

And the ravine is there again.

The same one?

I turn slowly, taking it all in—the trees, the ground, the thin layer of snow wiping everything clean.

I’m lost.

“Well,” I say, a little louder this time, like that might make it less true.

That doesn’t help.

A couple of hours ago I was strolling out of the lodge like I owned the place.

Going for a hike—back soon.

I huff out a short laugh.

Yeah. That’s going well.

I tilt my head back, staring up through the trees.

Gunnar.

I’m sorry.

Will you please come and rescue me from this freaking snowstorm?

I stand there, listening. Like I might hear something back.

Of course I don’t.

I glance around again, like something might have changed.

“Okay,” I say.

I turn a one-eighty and start walking.

Three steps.

Then I stop dead.

There’s a bear in front of me.

Close. Freaking massive. Blocking the path.

My pulse spikes⁠—