TWISTED ICE (ONC 2023)

CHAPTER 8

I follow Hunter and Jasmine down the slight incline, my gaze locking on the trail of blood spilled on the snow. Dark crimson against brilliant white. Life and death. But I remind myself, just because someone is bleeding doesn't mean they're dead. I consider that point since I can only see the thin trail that runs for about eight to ten feet before disappearing.

"What do you think happened to her?" Jasmine asks, standing next to me.

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, tilting my head as I weigh the options. "I can think of few things."

"She may have hit her head on those rocks up there." Hunter glances behind us, which gets all of us to turn "We got blown around pretty bad. That would be my first thought."

The dark brown rocks poke up out of the snow like a mini version of the Rocky Mountains.

"During the blizzard, I got blown onto something hard and held on for dear life. I feel confident that's what I landed on," I say. "But after I pushed to my feet, Chloe came whirling past me. As far as I could tell, she never hit the rocks. I don't think she was bleeding, but I could be wrong. We locked eyes for a split second and then she was gone. It happened so fast."

"Well, let's stop talking and go looking for her," Jasmine says.

The only thing we have to go on is the vanishing boot prints and the blood. The trail points south toward the tree line, and behind that, the jagged peaks of the real Rocky Mountains cutting up the overcast sky. We're still in the valley between ridges, no closer to the highway or any form of civilization. Now, more than ever, I have the utter feeling of being lost.

"Eliza?" Jasmine says. "Snap out of it. Are you listening to me?"

I flinch. "Oh, sorry. Yes." I taste the warm metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Can't seem to stop chewing on my flesh, especially when situations become intense.

Hunter clomps off toward the spruce, which I can now distinguish the cedars from the rest, the entire forest forming an evergreen wintry landscape. Jasmine hurries after him, and once I come to my senses, I scramble to catch up.

"Could she be under the snow?" Jasmine asks. "Like under our feet?"

Hunter grunts. "I doubt it. If we got hit by an avalanche, maybe, but I don't think a blizzard would do that."

As Jasmine takes to his left, I draw even on his right. "She could have bled more than what we saw back there. I think the blowing snow could have erased the trail. While we got tossed around that way, she got blown in the opposite direction."

"I think you're right. We might find her in the trees. We have to hurry."

Hunter high-steps it through the deep snow, the white stuff flinging off his boots in various directions. Jasmine does the same, and I bring up the rear, doing my best to keep up with my thin, non-athletic legs.

When I think back to one of Jasmine's swim meets, I remember her in a dark blue one-piece, slicing through the water with relative ease, like a mermaid. I remember her broad shoulders, conditioned that way by the act of swimming. I also recall her thigh muscles. They were much thicker and stronger than mine, tapering down into a graceful, and if I had to admit, attractive set of legs. Where Chloe has curves, Jasmine has muscles. Not too much, but she possesses a strength I nor Chloe have. Those legs perform perfectly in this wilderness, having no problem matching Hunter's stride.

By the time we reach the tree line—I'm bent over, gasping for every shred of air I can cram into my lungs. Jasmine and Hunter stand with their hands on their hips, panting, but not as strained as me.

Hunter squats at the edge of the trees, his fingertips grazing over an impression in the snow. "Found a faint boot print."

Jasmine steps past him and touches the weblike needles of a cedar. "Blood."