Instead, he pushed it slowly along the road, the engine idling softly while his boots carved a path through the drifts. The children clung to Elena, stumbling forward one step at a time, while Marcus kept glancing back to make sure none of them were falling behind.
His cabin sat less than half a mile away, though in the blizzard the distance felt endless.
By the time the small wooden structure appeared through the storm like a dark silhouette against the white sky, everyone was shaking violently from the cold.
Marcus kicked the door open and ushered them inside.
Warmth wrapped around them like a blanket.
The cabin smelled faintly of cedarwood and motor oil.
Without asking questions, Marcus went straight to the stove, shoving logs into the firebox until flames crackled high.
He grabbed every blanket he owned and piled them beside the hearth.
The children sank to the floor near the fire, silent and stunned.
Elena stood there for several seconds, staring at the walls as if she couldn’t quite believe they were real.
