Molly
Where was the hotel? Where was the end of the forest?
Molly had no idea what the time was, but she knew by the ache in her legs and the exhaustion of the dogs that she’d been sledding for too long.
If she’d followed the path correctly then she should’ve been at the Icehotel by now, but instead the foliage of the forest had grown dense and the path thinner. A sinking feeling of regret churned in Molly’s stomach. The time alone had given her exactly what she’d needed – space to think: enough to know that she’d made a mistake leaving the group.
The snow falling from the sky had been dainty and beautiful at first, like fairies dancing at a midnight ball and filling the forest with a magical beauty, but now flakes the size of conkers were pouring down hard from inky black clouds, blocking all but a metre of Molly’s vision. She couldn’t see Chevy or Mustang leading the pack, let alone the path beyond it.
Every instinct in her body was telling her to stop, hunker down, and wait out the storm, but with no tent, no shelter of any kind, stopping would be near suicide. She had to trust the dogs to keep her on the path.
The fresh snow on the ground made it easier on the sled than the frozen tracks from the snowmobiles, but the powder was hard going on the dogs. Every stride flicked snow into the air, hampering their progress.
‘You and Noah were already connected … He was the one who killed your brother.’
The shock of Rachel’s revelation had gone. And in its wake was a startling clarity. Nothing would bring Billy back, but Molly had been desperate for the truth about what happened that night, and the moment she’d been given the chance to find out, she’d run away. There were other thoughts crowding her head, thoughts about Noah. Snippets of their conversations that drifted in and out.
‘Something bad happened. It changed me’.
‘The pain – it’s the only thing that can push back the darkness.’
Memories of their kiss reared up too, and the energy she’d felt standing under the Northern Lights with Noah. But she’d pushed it away. She couldn’t think of Noah like that right now.
Molly felt the sled lines slacken, bringing her thoughts back to the present as the dogs slowed. ‘Hike,’ she shouted, taking in a lungful of air so cold it numbed the inside of her mouth.
The lines lurched in response, but something was wrong. Molly leaned forward, peering through the falling snow but seeing only white flakes upon flakes upon flakes.
The tree line, she realized too late. The trees ahead were lower. Much lower, which meant the path was about to drop. ‘Whoa,’ she shouted, hitting the brake. The sled slowed but continued creeping forward, as if losing a tug-of-war, until the back dogs disappeared. For a moment there was nothing but biting air and snow and the feeling of weightlessness. Then gravity hit and the sled, along with Molly, hurtled to the ground.
The tree trunk wasn’t wide, but the blow to the side of Molly’s face was hard as she hit the scratchy bark with a reverberating clonk.
***
It was some time before awareness sunk back into Molly. She was sure she hadn’t passed out, just checked out for a beat or two. Maybe more, she guessed by the inch of snow covering her trousers and jacket. All at once Molly became aware of the numbing cold penetrating her fingers and toes, and the tingling on the tip of her nose. She lifted her head a fraction, trying to assess the fall. The movement caused her head to spin in slow looping turns and she swallowed back the desire to throw up.
The main body of the sled was lying across her legs. She wiggled her feet, relieved to feel them respond. But she was stuck, her arms pinned by the sled and the tree trunk, with no space to slide out and no leverage to lift the sled away. She craned her neck. ‘Shelby? Dodge? Chevy?’
A flurry of whimpering barks sounded from the bottom of her feet.
She could see Chevy’s chocolate coat, and Mustang by his side. The black stripe of Tesla was visible to and Jeep was sat beside him. The tug lines between them were tangled tight, bunching them close together. Shelby was last, licking her paw and gnawing at the line wrapped tight around it.
‘It’s OK, girl. I’ll help you,’ she called out the lie, her voice shaky and lost in the falling snow.
Molly’s heart was beating so hard it shook her whole body and she fought the urge to cry. She was lost, she was trapped, and the air temperature seemed to be dropping at the same speed as the snow. In an hour she’d be buried and dead and there was nothing she could do about it.
Molly leant her head against the trunk of the tree and cried, her tears freezing in her goggles without even dropping onto her cheeks. For all intents and purposes she was dead. Like Billy.
A noise sounded from somewhere nearby. A twig cracking, followed by a thud on the ground. Molly peered through the mist in her goggles. Mustang’s ears were pricked high and alert. Whatever it was the dogs had heard it too. Molly twisted her head, and lifted her goggles, searching through the trees.
As the falling snow eased, Molly saw a large reindeer stepping into view, touching distance from Molly’s body. She was huge. Long skinny legs rising from the ground to a body covered with dark brown fur and a broad back. Her antlers rose from her head in two branch-like formations that divided in two and two again like smaller twigs. She pawed the ground and snorted, releasing a mist of smoke from her nostrils.
Dodge gave a bleat-like whimper, and the reindeer froze, the haunches of her skin shivering across her back. A moment passed before she moved, turning her head. The eyes that met Molly’s were deep and round and the richest brown Molly had ever seen.
Molly held her breath, not daring to move for fear of startling the beast. The reindeer pawed the snow once more, but her eyes never left Molly’s.
Dare ya, Billy’s teasing voice rang out in her head. Dare ya to survive, Mol.