Wren’s POV

I’m going to die in the snow wearing a North Face jacket and hiking boots I bought on sale.

The blizzard hit two hours ago. I lost the trail in the first twenty minutes.

My phone has died in the cold, my fingers have stopped bending properly about forty minutes back, and I’ve been walking in what I hope is a straight line.

Just when I’m about to give up, I hear voices. A flashlight beam cuts through the whiteout, and a man’s voice yells “Over here!” and before I can respond, hands are grabbing me.

Big hands. Multiple sets. They haul me through the snow like I...