Page 87 of Winter’s Teeth

My ankle buckled as soon as the skis hit the slope, crunching through the top crust of ice to the snow bed. I gritted my teeth and locked my knees, doing my best to keep my body together before my speed got any worse. The sky disappeared, the forest a black maw at the bottom of the hill ready to devour me as my field of view narrowed to every obstacle in my path.

Fox sped past me, but he leaned his torso back to slow himself just enough at my side. Shouting to be heard over the whipping wind, he said, “Loosen up and don’t lean so far forward!”

I bristled, hating to be told what to do, even if he was right. Fox is on your side, I reminded myself.

He led the charge down the mountain, leaving me to sink or swim as he cut wide arcs back and forth to keep his speed under control. Chips of ice and snow sprayed up behind him, pelting my coat and face until I lifted my body a bit. Instantly, my breakneck speed lessened, and when I gave my wobbly knees a chance to loosen, my skis turned easily to follow Fox’s serpentine path.

With my speed under control and my body not clenched tight enough to snap, my narrowed vision widened, revealing the sky, the forest, and everything around me in full view once more. Snow flurries that had been whipping past me now danced in a slow, lazy descent.

Maybe this time I wouldn’t go flying off into the woods. Maybe this time I would make it to the bottom of the hill in one piece with no fresh injuries. My ankle and knee protested with every lean, but they held together for the time being. Just a few more seconds... A few more carves.

The same boulder that had tripped me up the last time loomed into view. Black crept in around the edges of my sight.

You’ve got this. For Everly.

I willed my head to clear. Willed my field of view to open up again. Willed my aching, weak limbs to give in to gravity and carve as effortlessly as Fox.

It wasn’t a tidy skirt around the boulder, but I made it past with a burst of relieved laughter. Nearly losing my balance, I panicked for a heartbeat to get back on track, but as soon as I settled, I let loose. Skiing fast, heading straight for the bottom of the hill, I flew past Fox with a gleeful shout at him to keep up.

Baby pines no taller than Christmas trees rose up to meet me, and I thrust my skis to the side to slow my descent as soon as the ground leveled out of the severely steep slope. I wove through the trees, branches whipping against my arms and catching my coat sleeves, finally coming to a standstill without a scratch on me.

I whipped around, a triumphant grin on my face as I waited for Fox to catch up. Snow sprayed up around him in a cloud as he came to a fast halt twenty paces away. He threw off his goggles and hat, unclipped himself promptly, and ran the rest of the way to tackle me in a bear hug.

“You did it,” he praised, then set me back on my skis. “Ankle’s not broken in two?”

I wiggled it minimally in the boot. “Nope. Just really warm and tingly. Probably not a great sign, but...” I shrugged. “It’s not falling off yet.”

He chuckled dryly. “I guess that’s good. Come on. We’ve got another small hike to get to the cabin.”

A dreadful thrill coursed through my veins. Next came the terrifying part—something even more terrifying than the quadruple black diamond level ski slope I just mastered.

I dug hiking shoes out of our bag and sat in the snow to change boots beside Fox.

In a few hours, if the plan didn’t totally go to hell, I would have Everly back.

Blowing out another slow, determined breath, I centered myself in the present.

One more hike. One more push.

Then I would have Everly.

***

THE BITTER COLD WAS an old friend. I didn’t shudder when the wind bit my exposed skin, and I didn’t mind the ache in my muscles. The more I moved, the more I could bear it.

When the cabin roof covered in moss and pine needles first peeked out in the distance, lit silver in moonlight, we stopped beside a babbling stream to mask the sound of our approach.

“I’m gonna scout ahead. See who’s on duty,” Fox whispered low.

“Then you’ll tell me the plan?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll be back in a minute.”

My heart clenched to be parted from him for even a moment, but I took the reprieve to sit and stretch my legs. A twinge had started up in my knee that I couldn’t ignore the last half mile, desperately needing a rest or a reset. Cold air nipped the back of my neck just as Fox shifted into something winged. I jerked my gaze up, not wanting to miss it, but only caught sight of something hawk-like just before it vanished between the trees.

That was never going to get old.

I had a million questions for him. Like if he got tired if he shifted too much, or if he ever stayed in another form for a whole day because he’d forgotten to shift back. I wanted to see it in action again and again. I wanted to memorize the way his body melted into something else faster than a blink. I wanted to know what he thought and felt each time he shifted. I wanted to know what it felt like to fly.