Nothing helped leaving the past behind like a thousand miles and a snowstorm to cover her tracks.

Abby Knight gripped the heated steering wheel and cursed the foul weather. Whoever heard of a blizzard the first week of May? She increased the speed of the windshield wipers. Not that it helped.

The swirling snow decreased visibility to dangerous levels, and instead of illuminating the dark road, the headlights of her Jeep made things worse. The seething mess turned into an impenetrable wall of white as the light from her high beams reflected off the falling snow.

On last check of Google Maps, the town of Peace Springs, was less than ten miles away. It could well be a hundred for the mess outside. A hot meal, warm bed, and getting off the snowy highway topped her list of things-to-do.

It wasn’t like she’d never seen snow either. She’d grown up in Redlands, nestled at the foothills of the San Bernardino Mountains. Those peaks had their fair share of snow, but it was a take it or leave it kind of thing. If she wanted to go skiing, she drove the hour up to Big Bear, skied all day, and returned home to balmy seventy-degree weather. She wasn’t a fan of snow unless it was something she could play in and leave behind.

Her uncle had promised she would enjoy working in Peace Springs. The only reason she’d agreed was because he needed help, and she needed an excuse to leave her home. Peace Springs was growing, he said, and he wanted to retire sometime soon. Taking over his practice would be a great experience for a newly licensed family medicine physician. He had more reasons than she had excuses, and it made sense to relocate her life. Redlands held too many bad memories. Her parents’ deaths being merely one reason. Her abusive ex had been the defining factor. It was long past time to leave that town behind.

Leaning over the steering wheel, she peered through the windshield to curse the falling snow. For a girl born and raised in Southern California, she was used to endless sunshine, concrete buildings extending to the horizon, and highways five and six lanes wide. Not this tiny road the locals claimed was a highway.

Her sigh filled the cab with a mixture of regret and frustration. This was a permanent move, which meant she needed to embrace it. Especially after her hopes for establishing a practice in Redlands had died when one punch became one too many.

Not going back there. Ever.

She glanced at the back seat and checked on the Boston fern. The houseplant was the only thing her ex, Jacob, had let her take from their shared apartment. She’d transported the darn thing halfway across the country, not because the plant meant anything special, but because Jacob would’ve killed it within a week.

Her entire life had been condensed into three suitcases, a potted plant, and—holy crap! A moose!

Her scream shattered the silence as she slammed the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel to the right. The massive animal stood in the middle of the road without a care in the world, whereas her pulse thundered and her stomach leaped to her throat.

The tires slid over the ice, launching her off the road toward a line of barbed-wire fencing and a ditch. Counter-steering, she pointed the car back in the direction she wanted to go. It didn’t work. The Jeep skidded into a spin.

Coming full circle, she plowed into the ditch and landed nose first into a drift of snow. A loud bang sounded. It felt like someone slugged her in the face and chest all at once. A fine, white powder coated the inside of the car, making her cough. The airbag had pushed her back and saved her life, but damn that had hurt. Her heart hammered, and the ragged pull of her breaths scraped in her ears.

“No, no, no!” she screamed. This can’t be happening.

This place sucked.

It was too isolated.

And moose on the loose?

What next? Lions, tigers and, bears?

More likely, she’d find mountain lions, wolves, and bears.

Outside, snow began to pile up on the hood of her car.

She batted the airbag out of the way. Board certification in family medicine wasn’t as much help as the extra training she’d taken in acute care and emergency medicine. Not that she’d ever planned on performing a secondary survey for injuries on herself. Thankfully, she had none.

The bridge of her nose hurt. Her cheekbones and orbital rims were tender but intact. Her eyes stung, and her eyelids dragged against the grit from the powder released when the airbag deployed. She took a deep breath. No pain in her ribs. Her shoulder hurt from where the seatbelt had held her in place, but nothing seemed broken. She wiggled her toes and moved her legs. No pain there.

Where was her phone? It had been in the drink holder a second ago. She needed to call her uncle and get help.

She searched while the oppressiveness of the outside temperature stole her precious heat. Staying put might seem wise, but what if no help ever came? There hadn’t been another vehicle on the road for miles. Even in the daylight, would anyone see her car? Or would the snow cover it, encasing her in a chilly grave? Just in case, she flipped on the emergency flashers.

Her phone. There, on the passenger floorboard.

Damn. No reception.

Not that it mattered. The battery was down to less than five percent and wouldn't last much longer.

The engine sputtered and died. The heater quit blowing warm air. A chill crept in through the windows. She placed her palm against the glass and withdrew it with a hiss. There were only a few hours left until midnight, which meant it would only get colder outside.

Thanks to that damned moose, she was half-buried in a ditch. Any passing cars wouldn’t be able to see her. She shivered with the encroaching cold.

No way to get the car out of the ditch. Should she wait out the storm? Was it even safe to run the engine? She had less than a quarter of a tank. It wouldn’t last. The biggest threat to her safety would be hypothermia. Staying warm and dry was her top priority.

And finding help.

Twice she turned the key, but the engine wouldn’t start. What was the right thing to do in a situation like this? Stay with the vehicle? Or would she be safer walking along the road? Hell if she knew.

The wind seemed to be dying down, and a stillness hung over the countryside. Snow continued its relentless fall. If it hadn’t been for her life and death situation, she would take a moment to admire the beauty of freshly fallen snow. No time for that. She needed to think.

Well, walking would generate body heat. Sitting in the car wouldn’t.

A glance back at the jumble of her luggage and she made a decision.

She had a thin coat and a hat, but plenty of shirts and even a pair of sweats. Layers would be the key.

A few minutes later, and after many contortions inside the vehicle, she was out of breath but warmer. She’d layered seven shirts and shoved her legs into a pair of sweats, tugging them over her jeans. Shame she didn’t have anything but sneakers and sandals in her luggage. A good pair of boots would’ve been nice.

One last look outside the windows had her weighing the pros and cons of leaving her car. Once she stepped outside, there was no telling how deep the drift might be. Cold feet would make walking difficult. But cold, wet feet would make her trek downright treacherous, not to mention the danger of frostbite. Would the snow even melt? Maybe once it was against her skin? Shit, she didn’t have the experience for this.

Turning back to her luggage, Abby grabbed three sets of socks, just in case the pair she wore got wet during her climb out of the ditch. She grabbed another pair to put over her hands in place of gloves.

Time to go. A deep breath in and she gave a silent prayer, hoping someone happened to be cruising the highway.

Abby had to shove and kick to open the door. She stepped onto the snow and promptly sank to her knees.

Frigid air bit her nose. Her cheeks prickled, but at least there wasn’t much wind. Snow encased her feet, freezing her ankles. Soon, it would melt against the warmth of her skin.

“Nice way to extend the welcome mat,” she spat.

A gust of wind blew snow into her eyes, making them water. The wetness froze on her cheeks.

Time to get out of the ditch.

On her climb out, she stumbled and fell face first into the snow. The tip of her nose burned with the cold. Her cheeks prickled until she couldn't feel them anymore. Her fingers numbed. Deep wracking shivers took control of her body. She finally made it to the road and already questioned her sanity. However, the car would be her coffin if she’d stayed.

As she’d feared, it was hidden from the road. No chance in hell anyone would've spotted her down there. The falling snow had even obliterated any sign of her skid. Not to mention, there was no sign of the damned moose.

Abby wrapped her arms around herself to conserve body heat. She worked quickly to peel off the wet socks and put a dry pair on her frozen feet. Her sneakers were damp, but she couldn't do anything about that. Other than her rapid breathing, the night was almost tranquil.

Getting back to her feet, she stamped away the cold, urging circulation back into her frozen toes. At least there was one positive in all this mess. She knew which way to go, if not how far she'd have to hike. Less than ten miles for certain. Probably fewer than five.

She could do this. As long as she kept to the road, and kept moving, she should reach Peace Springs within the hour. Two at the most.

Turning left, she took her first step. Biting chill lashed at her, taking precious heat and stealing her energy.

About an hour later, the wind had returned. Each step had become a chore. All she wanted was to curl up, stop, and sleep. Not once did she see approaching headlights. Nor did she see lights from farms or ranches to either side of the road. Open sky territory, the land was barren of people, and no-one was on the road. That would never happen in California.

Time dragged. Her molars knocked against one another. The muscles of her jaw bunched with the constant chatter. And her back. The small of her back tightened with each gust of the wind.

This was hell, but she took another step, and then one more. Her thoughts drifted with the swirling snow, thinking back to another time. A situation she’d barely escaped. Hopefully, her poor choices, and Jacob, would stay in her past.

A crackling of branches sounded to her left. Had the moose returned? She wished she had a flashlight. Instead, she moved to the center of the road.

More breaking branches. A smaller animal than a moose?

“Ha!” Like she was some expert.

Okay then. Dog or coyote? Dogs were friendly and not a threat. Coyotes tended to be skittish and scared of humans. As long as whatever moving in the brush wasn’t a wolf, she was happy to let it be.

Silence followed, and she breathed out, teasing herself for every flinch made in response to the random noises of nature. Maybe that was the problem? Snow muffled sound, and stillness echoed in the quiet. Every little sound seemed amplified in comparison.

An ear-piercing howl broke the stillness. A deep, wailing noise. The howl carried itself through the air and crashed against her ears, making her pulse race.

She came to a halt, heart jackhammering in her chest. It was impossible to pinpoint the location of that noise.

A streak of red flashed in front of her, less than ten feet away. She jumped and forced herself to calm down. That animal was too small to be a wolf. Fox maybe?

She tried to laugh, but it came out strangled and scared.

A squeaking of snow sounded behind her, followed by a low huff.

She spun around and came face-to-face with a pack of timber wolves. The lead animal pointed its nose to the sky and let loose a long, piercing howl. The long, skin-crawling sound split the night air with its deep reverberations. The wolf pawed the ground and faced her down. It raised its thin lips and gave a throaty growl. The others hunkered down and snarled.