Chapter One

Mima Etu angled the dog sled, helping her excited team advance around a dangerous bend in the trail. With one mukluk on the runner, she pedaled with the other, helping the team keep their pace as they climbed the embankment running alongside the river. Her legs trembled, and she sucked in short, sharp breaths from the exertion, but there was no way she’d let Mary win.

Just past dawn, the foggy morning promised a mild day. She filled her lungs with wilderness air, thrilled to be out running so early in the morning. Sledding was food for her soul.

Mima and her best friend, Mary, pushed both teams hard, fighting for the lead along the straightaway, their sleds mere inches from each other. Where Mary had a team of seven small Samoyeds, Mima ran three Siberian huskies and two big Greenlands. Mary’s team was quick while Mima’s had more power.

“You’re out of shape this year,” Mary shouted over the jingling sled bells.
“It’s the first day of the year, asshole.”
They both laughed and pushed their teams harder.
“I’m gonna beat you again,” Mary teased, pedaling behind her sled, hustling the

dogs along the trail. Her sled picked up momentum and pulled a few yards ahead.
“Like hell. Haw!” Mima’s team took the left turn tight around a rock cut, gaining the advantage. They continued quickly along the trail, weaving around snow-covered pines and boulders bordering the river’s edge, but on the next straightaway, Mary’s team

charged forward, leaving Mima in her snowy wake.
Those damn dogs of hers are quick on the line. Mima smiled despite Mary

passing her. The woman always gave her a run for her money, and she enjoyed the challenge. One of these days she’d beat her, and then she could rub it back in her face.

“Easy... Easy,” she called out to her team. They slowed to a leisurely pace along the trail, allowing Mima the chance to gaze at the surrounding wilderness without distraction.

She loved it out here. This was her life and her home. A sandy beach down south didn’t hold a candle to the crisp, white scenery of midwinter on her land. City skyscrapers held no promise of adventure as these towering mountains did. As far as she was concerned, the world outside of this land did not exist.

Her sled—still decorated from the Christmas season—jingled with every bump as the team ascended the foothills toward her home. They struggled up the embankment, panting as they dug their paws into the trail and booked it toward home. The two Greenlands, Musti and Little Red, pulled hard; their job was carrying the weight in the back. Mima hopped off the runners to help ease their burden, but as soon as they crested the hill, the team suddenly halted.

Mima caught her chest on the handlebar, nearly toppling over the sled. “What the hell?”

Mary’s team stood silent in the middle of the trail with the brake secured in the snow. Their snouts and ears pointed anxiously toward some unseen presence beyond the trees, while Mary trudged through the deep snow around the bush line.

Mima set her brake in the snow and stepped on it, wondering what had caught her friend’s attention.

“What is it?”
Mary waved her arm, gesturing to come closer. “I think it’s a plane.”
With her stomach in knots, Mima made her way over and halted when she eyed a

crumpled blue-and-white Cessna. A sprawling birch jutting up alongside the steep embankment was all that kept the plane from plunging into the river below.

“Do you think that’s the plane we heard yesterday evening?”

Mary shrugged. “I don’t know, but it looks like a recent crash. What if there’s blood and guts in there?” She stared up at Mima, her chin quivering.

After one of Mary’s dogs jumped at a spinning plane propeller a few years back, she had nightmares for months and hadn’t gone near a plane since. Mima couldn’t blame her.

She offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll go look. Stay with the dogs before they yank the brakes and take off. They’re getting restless.”

Mary nodded resolutely and headed back to man the teams.

Eerie silence charged the air as Mima faced the plane, every muscle in her body tight. The plane was so crumpled she couldn’t tell if it had wheels or skis.

She pulled herself up to look into the cockpit and gasped. A man lay slumped over the steering wheel, his head leaning against the dashboard. Somehow he had managed to stay in his seat even though he wore no seat belt. His skin appeared gray, and dried blood covered the left side of his face.

“There’s a pilot here,” Mima shouted. “I think he’s dead.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “Did you check his pulse?”
With a trembling hand, Mima reached through the busted window and pressed her

fingertips to his throat. The pilot twitched, and she yanked her hand back as if burned. “He’s alive! We need to get him out of here fast.”

She examined the crumpled pilot door, her mind racing with a plan. “Hang in there, buddy.”

The whole right side of the plane was buried deep in the snow, lodged against the birch tree, and the left side must have hit the ground first, which caused it to crumple. As she glanced back at the dogs, an idea suddenly came to her. Using the team’s strength to pull the door might be the pilot’s only hope.

“Mary, unhook my team and bring them over. I need them to pull the door open.”

Mima stayed with the pilot as Mary rushed back to her sled. She removed the gangline connecting the dogs to the sled and secured it to the hook line. Holding Nitchie’s collar, Mary then guided the team to the plane. After a few minutes struggling to set them up straight ahead of the door, she tossed Mima the snow hook to wrap around the handle of the pilot door.

Excited and charged-up, the dogs barked and jumped—their instinct ready to pull.

Mima tied the hook end around the door handle. When she was sure the hook would hold, she motioned for Mary to stand by the dogs. “They need to pull hard or this door won’t budge.”

“Okay.” Mary jumped and clapped her hands, revving up the team, and shouted, “Hike hard!”

The team lunged forward, pulling the gangline taut and snapping the crisp air like a whip. Metal creaked and groaned, shifting from the frame as the dogs worked the line. “Hike!” Another hard tug and the door broke away, hurtling into the snow behind the wheel dogs.

“Whoa!” Mary lunged for Nitchie, the lead dog, and grabbed his collar before they took off down the trail without their musher.

“Now for the fun part,” Mima said when Mary returned. “He’s not a small guy.”

Mary glanced inside. “Maybe if we both take an arm we can pull him out. We’re not that weak.”

Each of them grabbed a shoulder and tugged hard, dragging his limp, heavy body out of the cockpit and onto Mima’s sled. They tucked him in tight with the blankets she always had on board. When the hard part was over, the girls both sighed in unison.

Mary stared at the frozen pilot, her face a mask of curious uncertainty. “Should we get him to town?”

If it were a perfect world, this wouldn’t have happened to begin with, and even though Mima knew the pilot needed medical assistance, the sun had already begun to set. They’d never make it in time. Sledding at night around here was too dangerous.

She contemplated the best course of action. “It’ll be dark soon, and he needs heat. Besides, you still need to make it home too.” She looked around the surrounding bush, thinking she didn’t want to bring him home where she lived alone. But how dangerous could a half-dead man be? “Let’s bring him to my place and see what happens first. I could always radio a rescue chopper in the morning if he needs it.”

Mary patted the man’s shoulder. “You’re lucky we found you, buddy.” Then she went back to her sled and yanked her snow hook out of the ground.

“Hike!”

Both teams jumped at the command and surged forward. They maintained a brisk pace, pushing the dogs to the peak of their power and speed. As she pulled away from the crash site, Mima looked back in the direction of the plane. What was he doing flying alone way out here? Sure, plane crashes happened often enough, but flying over this area during midwinter was like knocking on death’s door. This range of mountains was known for its turbulent winds.

Either the pilot lost direction or he had to fly over this area. Either way, he had a rabbit’s foot up his ass that she and Mary had taken the old trail today. Otherwise, he would have died out here, alone, in that wreck of a plane.