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Lila climbed down anyway, boots slipping off the wagon step. Snow rose to her calves immediately, biting through worn leather. She stumbled, caught herself on the sideboard, and heard the driver’s laugh crack like a whip.
“Where’s the shack?” she asked. She turned in a slow circle, peering through the white swirl. “I don’t see—”
The whip snapped. Not at her, but close enough that she recoiled. The wagon lurched forward. The driver didn’t look back as he left her in the middle of the mountain trail like a dropped sack of grain.
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