Page 184 of The Heart of Winter

Early in the morning, on the eighth day since we found the wetlands, and the eighteenth day since the crash, I stepped out of the cave to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.

We’d just finished a morning quickie, and Winter was relaxing in the hot spring while I decided to take a short walk.

Near the cave entrance, we’d stored our carry-on bags to keep them dry from the steam inside. They held everything we didn’t use daily, being so far from civilization. But something nudged me to grab my phone, maybe take some pictures of the island. It was deactivated before, so it still had about 30% battery.

When I reached the meadows down the slope and started snapping shots of the coastline, something caught my ear.

A sound.

I lifted my head from the screen, glancing at the sky, initially thinking I’d heard thunder, the distant rumble of an approaching storm.

But that wasn’t it.

Something far more terrifying caught my eye.

Over the caldera of the volcano, a plume of fire and molten rock exploded into the sky! Without thinking, I took a picture.

Suddenly… black fragments of rock shot through the air, and beneath my feet, the ground trembled. I staggered, hearing the sharp thuds of falling debris all around me. A stone the size of my fist crashed to the ground just five feet away, hissing as it touched the snow.

I shuddered in terror.

Another fell even closer, right next to me. Tiny pebbles began raining down like hail, and with them, a thick cloud of ash started rising from the volcanic slopes.

It all happened in mere seconds.

For a moment, I was frozen, shocked by how fast this once-peaceful landscape had turned violent. A wave of anger surged through me, at myself, for letting my guard down, for daring to believe we were safe here, that everything would turn out fine. The volcano had kept us alive, given us warmth… and now it was demanding its payout.

The next thought was even more terrifying.

Winter.

Winter was still inside the cave.

That tremor had shaken the entire island. I didn’t even let myself finish the thought—my body moved on instinct. I sprinted toward the cave entrance.

Sliding down the rocky slope of the canyon on my ass, I spotted the first sign that something was very wrong.

The stream… wasn’t flowing!

Our lifeline, the source of warmth and survival, had run dry! The streambed was still wet, but no new water was coming in. What the hell did that mean? Had something shifted underground, diverting the water’s course?

I ran along the bank, following it to a gentle bend in the canyon—then skidded to a halt.

A thick cloud of dust hung over the cave entrance.

A sharp, gut-wrenching pain twisted in my chest as I bolted forward. I tore the blankets off my shoulders and rushed inside without a second thought.

"Winter!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

Nothing.

Only the distant growl of the volcano.

Panic. Terror. Excruciating fear!

I took a few steps in, my heart pounding in my ears. I knew I was about ten yards from where the mattresses were, the spot where Winter had probably gone to collapse into a post-sex nap after getting out of the water.

But before I could reach it, my foot struck something.

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