Page 4 of Mountain Summons

Tristan knew Lorenz well enough to know which one his friend would choose. But he wasn’t that selfless. There were things he’d want to know before making a decision—not things he felt like talking about.

“I’ve no idea,” Tristan said smoothly.

“It’s a stupid question, anyway,” Lorenz agreed.

Tristan’s gaze drifted to the twinkling patchwork of golden lights against the dark expanse of the mountains behind. The contrast always struck him—the raw, untamed wilderness pressing right up against civilization.

“So,” Lorenz drawled. “You going to go looking for her?”

Tristan didn’t need to ask who Lorenz was talking about. His PGHM colleagues were family to him—hell, he was closer to them than to his own family—so of course he’d told them about Lena. He just hadn’t mentioned that she’d stood him up.

He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping his expression neutral. “You mean Lena?”

“No, I mean Marie, the charming Scottish lady who just tried to smuggle us back to her hotel room.” Lorenz smirked. “Of course I mean Lena. I thought you guys were supposed to go out together tonight.”

Tristan sighed, unwilling to lie to his friend. “She stood me up.”

“I’m sorry, man.” Lorenz didn’t push any further until they were outside his flat. “Thanks for the ride. Maybe you should call her.” He didn’t wait for Tristan to respond before he hopped onto the sidewalk, shutting the door behind him with a solidthud. He gave Tristan a two-fingered salute before heading off, his silhouette disappearing into the glow of the streetlights.

4

Lena

The scent of damp earth and pine filled her lungs as she followed the winding trail along the steep mountainside. It was hard to think that all this green would soon be covered in snow. It was all so alive at the moment.

Below her, the river valley stretched wide, the water threading through it like liquid silver beneath the shifting light. Even with the thick clouds pressing in, it was beautiful—wild, in a way she’d always loved, in a way that made her feel she was home. Regardless of where Lena went, regardless of how much she traveled, this was the smell she always came back to. The smell of home.

Every step on the familiar path brought memories rushing forward. She hadn’t even realized how much she missed it while she was away, but now that she was back, it was as if she’d never left.

She remembered the hikes she’d taken as a child, always at her mother’s side, their boots crunching against the dirt as they picked their way up the slopes. Once in a while her father would join them, but he’d always considered weekends to be bonus work days, so usually it was just her and her mother, out here in the mountains.

Even now, six years after her mother’s passing, the loss felt fresh. Like she could turn a corner and find her waiting there, smiling, one hand on her windblown hair as she pointed out some hidden pocket of the forest. A bird’s nest. A deer trail.

Everything Lena knew about wildlife, she’d learned from her mother. Sometimes she thought her love of photography came from the same place—an irresistible urge to preserve those fleeting moments of her childhood.

Huffing a bit from the sudden uphill—maybe she wasn’t as fit as she’d once been—she veered off the main path, pushing through the trees. The dense forest muffled the world beyond, the hush of damp leaves and distant river filling the silence. She knew these trails well—knew where the wildlife lingered this time of year, where she might catch the last movements of the season before winter set in. Or at least, she hoped she did.

She adjusted her camera strap, stepping carefully as she moved toward a familiar clearing, where she’s last seen the family of chamois earlier in the fall. But the rain, which had started as a light mist, was beginning to pick up, thickening the air with a steady, whispering drizzle.

Lena stopped briefly to put on her light waterproof layer and trudged on. This wasn’t the first time she’d found herself walking in less than ideal conditions. In her job, persistencesometimespaid off. Giving up never did.

She was determined not to let the weather dissuade her, telling herself at the end of the day she’d hopefully have aspectacular set of photographs to show for her effort … and that there’d be a warm bath waiting for her back at her father’s house.

By mid-afternoon, though, the ground was slick beneath her boots, the packed dirt of the trail softening to mud, and her hair under the thin waterproof jacket hung in wet, heavy strands. She wished she’d taken the time to braid it earlier that day.

The clouds had deepened to a heavy gray that didn’t bode well. A small voice inside her told her it was time to turn back, that the rain she’d experienced so far was nothing compared to what she’d face if the storm caught up with her for real. But she’d gotten no good shots all day. If she could just get a little farther, maybe find the perfect shot before the storm rolled in …

Her phone pinged once, then multiple times in quick succession. Reception was hit-and-miss up here—she must have just hit a spot with decent reception.

She wondered briefly if one of them was from Tristan, but no, they were all work-related messages.You fool. There was no way he’d want to see her again. She recalled the brief message exchange from the night before, when she’d finally built up her courage to write to him, at close to one in the morning.

I’m sorry I didn’t show up.

He’d written back almost immediately.

Are you okay?

Her fingers had hesitated on the keyboard. She’d been sorely tempted to make something up.Anything.Something to make him give her another chance. But she wasn’t willing to lie—that wasn’t the way she wanted to live her life. She thought for a long time before typing out three words.

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