7. Sawyer

7

SAWYER

M orning light filtered through the frosted windows of the cabin, casting a soft glow across the room. Sawyer blinked awake, her mouth parting to let out a long, tired yawn. She shifted in her sleeping bag, a smile making its way to her face as she felt the familiar warmth of Mirren beside her.

Sawyer peered down at the woman sleeping soundly at her side, her smile growing as she took in Mirren’s peaceful state. She adored the small breaths that escaped her mouth, the way her chest gently rose and fell to match them. The events of the previous night danced at the edges of her memory. The connection between her and Mirren was wonderful but unexpected, and what had happened was the last thing she’d expected could possibly have happened on this mission. But she didn’t regret one second of it, especially now that she knew Mirren felt similarly.

Sawyer turned slightly to study Mirren. She traced a finger along the outline of Mirren’s arm. Every inch of her body felt alive, invigorated by the closeness they’d shared. The way Mirren had looked at her, the way their bodies had moved together—it had all felt so natural, as if they were always meant to find their way to this moment.

With a gentle tug, Sawyer pulled the sleeping bag down, revealing their intertwined limbs. Mirren stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. A sleepy smile spread across her face as she met Sawyer’s gaze.

“Good morning,” Mirren murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” Sawyer replied, her heart swelling at the sight of Mirren’s morning glow. “How did you sleep?”

Mirren stretched, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “Better than I have in a long time. You?”

“Same,” Sawyer admitted, her smile growing. The weight of the storm outside felt like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the warmth between them.

“I can’t believe we…” Mirren hesitated, a hint of shyness creeping into her expression.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, her voice steady. “It was something, wasn’t it?”

A blush crept onto Mirren’s cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was. I didn’t expect it to feel so…right.”

Sawyer’s heart raced at Mirren’s words, knowing she felt the same way. The fear that had lingered just beneath the surface—the fear of complicating their relationship, of crossing a line that would change everything—began to dissipate. Instead, there was only a sense of belonging, a feeling of being exactly where they were meant to be.

“I think we’ve crossed that line,” Sawyer said, her tone teasing but sincere. “And I’m glad we did.”

Mirren met her gaze, and for a moment, they simply held each other’s eyes, neither of them saying a word. There was a comfort in that silence, a mutual understanding that they were no longer just two military women on a mission but two people exploring the depths of their emotions together.

“Are you okay?” Mirren asked, her voice softening. “I mean…with everything?”

Sawyer took a deep breath, weighing her thoughts. “Yeah, I am. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Mirren.” She shook her head. “It scares me…but it also feels exhilarating.”

Mirren nodded, her expression earnest. “I feel the same. We’re in a weird situation, and we both know it. But I want to see where this goes, if you do.”

Sawyer felt a rush of warmth at Mirren’s words. “I do. I really want to.”

With that affirmation hanging in the air, Mirren’s smile grew before she leaned closer, her lips brushing against Sawyer’s. The kiss was soft and sweet. It ignited that familiar spark between them, sending warmth coursing through Sawyer’s body.

As they pulled apart, a playful smile danced on Mirren’s lips. “We should probably get moving soon. The storm won’t last forever.”

“Right,” Sawyer said, though she felt a pang of reluctance at the thought of leaving their cozy cocoon. “But first?—.”

Before she had the chance to finish her sentence, a loud crash sounded out that shook the outpost so violently it shocked Sawyer to her core.

The wind howled outside the outpost, a banshee’s scream that tore through the walls as though seeking to break them down from the inside. Snow pelted the windows, swirling in a chaotic dance of white, while the old wood and metal groaned in protest. Everything around them creaked and rattled under the pressure.

Sawyer had always known the Arctic could turn cruel at any moment. But knowing something in theory and living it were worlds apart, which she experienced on several of her missions. However, this mission…the weather was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

“We should get moving,” Sawyer breathed, concern edging her tone. As badly as she wanted to lay there with Mirren and soak up her warmth for an unreasonable amount of time, they had to get moving.

The outpost was holding up—for now.

Both women didn’t hesitate to throw on their clothes and get to work. Sawyer sat hunched by the stove, staring at the flickering embers that barely offered warmth anymore. They were in dire need of firewood, what little that remained doing little to make the fire greater. Mirren was across the room, pacing, her normally calm exterior beginning to fray at the edges. The situation had grown far worse than either of them could have anticipated. It wasn’t just cold anymore—it was deadly.

“Anything?” Sawyer asked, her voice rough with exhaustion as she looked toward Mirren, who had been fiddling with the shortwave radio for the past hour.

Mirren shook her head, her expression tight. “The storm’s completely blocking the signal. It’s no use.”

Sawyer sighed, the frustration gnawing at her. She wasn’t used to feeling this helpless. Every bone in her body screamed at her to do something , to fix the situation, but this was a force of nature far beyond her control. She could navigate a blizzard. She could endure the biting cold. But she couldn’t fight the inevitable.

Sawyer glanced around the outpost. Their supplies were dwindling. What little food they had left would barely last them another day, and the fuel for the stove was nearly depleted. Worse, the temperature inside the outpost was dropping by the hour. It was only a matter of time before they’d be forced to face the reality that they couldn’t stay here. Not like this.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, another deafening crack rent the air.

“Mirren—get down!” Sawyer shouted, lunging forward as part of the roof above them gave way, snow and debris crashing into the outpost like a tidal wave. She barely had time to pull Mirren into her arms, dragging her beneath the makeshift table as the ceiling collapsed in chunks of ice and timber. For a few heart-pounding seconds, the world seemed to implode around them.

When the noise finally subsided, Sawyer slowly lifted her head, her muscles aching from the impact. Above them, a gaping hole in the roof let in the furious wind and snow, the icy air immediately biting at her exposed skin.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice rough, eyes locking on Mirren’s.

Mirren nodded, her face pale but otherwise unhurt. “Yeah. I’m okay. You?”

“Fine.” Sawyer’s breath came out in shallow puffs, her heart still racing. They were both unharmed, but that hardly mattered now. The roof—what little protection they’d had left—was gone , and with it, their chances of surviving the storm had dropped even further.

Mirren crawled out from beneath the table, brushing snow off her clothes, her movements sharp with frustration. “We have to fix this. There’s no way we can stay here with the roof like that.”

Sawyer wanted to agree, to tell her they could patch it up and wait out the rest of the storm. But the truth hung heavy between them. “Mirren… we can’t.”

The words came out more quietly than she intended, but the weight behind them was undeniable. Mirren stilled, her blue eyes snapping to Sawyer, waiting for her to explain.

Sawyer stood slowly, her limbs aching from the cold, and gestured toward the stove. “The stove’s barely working as it is. And with the roof compromised, it’s only going to get worse. We don’t have enough fuel to keep the heat going, and the temperature’s dropping faster than we can handle. Even if we manage to cover the hole, we won’t be able to stay warm.”

“So, what do we do?” Mirren asked, her voice sharp, laced with the panic she was clearly trying hard to suppress. “We can’t just sit here and freeze to death.”

Sawyer crossed the room, standing by the broken stove, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. She’d been trained to survive in the harshest of environments, but this…this was different. They were trapped, and their options were slipping away with every passing minute.

“We need to leave,” Sawyer said, her voice steady but grim. “We can’t stay here. If we don’t find a way out, we won’t make it through the night.”

Mirren’s expression shifted, the full weight of their situation sinking in. Her hands clenched at her sides, but she nodded, her face set with determination. “How far is the nearest station?”

“Too far to make it in this storm,” Sawyer admitted, the truth heavy in her chest. “But we don’t have a choice. We need to find shelter. There’s a secondary outpost a few miles south. If we can make it there, we might stand a chance.”

Mirren stared at her for a moment, as though weighing their limited options, and finally nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Sawyer moved quickly, gathering what little gear they had left and handing Mirren a thermal blanket to wrap around herself. They didn’t have time for more preparation—every second they stayed here was another second closer to freezing.

The wind outside howled with brutal ferocity, and as they stepped out into the storm, it hit them like a wall of ice, cutting through their layers of clothing with ease. The sky was so dark it was impossible to tell what time of the day it was. Trees enveloped both sides of what used to be a clear-cut path swayed and groaned violently, threatening to tear from their roots and impale them with their narrow branches at any given moment.

Sawyer led the way, her body bent against the wind, each step feeling like it took an eternity. The snow was knee-deep, and every movement drained more of their already waning strength. She prayed that the storm would let up, and that, if there were any animals lurking nearby, the ferocity of the storm would hold them back.

Behind her, she could hear Mirren’s labored breathing, the cold clawing at both of them. They’d barely made it a quarter of a mile when Sawyer felt the first pang of doubt creep in.

The storm was getting worse, not better. The outpost felt like a distant memory now, swallowed by the relentless blizzard.

“How much farther?” Mirren called out, her voice barely audible over the roar of the wind.

Sawyer glanced at her GPS, squinting against the swirling snow. “Three miles.” She answered, but that doubt never left her body. What if the GPS was wrong? Broken? What if the storm was leading her away from the location she remembered? She tried to shake the thoughts away, but they plagued the back of her mind like an unrelenting parasite.

“Three miles,” Mirren repeated, her voice shaky but determined, nearly muted in the howling winds of the storm. “We can do that.”

Sawyer nodded, but inside, she wasn’t so sure. The temperature was dropping fast, and the cold was seeping into her bones, making her movements sluggish, her thoughts slower. Her body screamed at her to stop, to rest, but she pushed forward, one step at a time, knowing that stopping meant certain death.

They walked in silence for what felt like hours. Every step was a battle, every breath a painful reminder of how fragile they were in the face of nature’s fury. The weight of their situation pressed down on Sawyer, her mind racing with grim possibilities.

Suddenly, Mirren stumbled behind her, her body collapsing into the snow.

“Mirren!” Sawyer turned, her heart leaping into her throat as she rushed to her side. “Mirren, get up . Come on. We can’t stop here.”

Mirren looked up at her, her face pale and lips blue from the cold. “I’m trying,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m just…so tired.”

Fear gripped Sawyer’s heart as she knelt beside Mirren, shaking her gently. “No. No, no, you can’t give up. We’re almost there. Mirren. We’re so close. We’re so close .”

But as Sawyer looked out into the endless white expanse of the storm, she realized the awful truth—they were still miles away from safety, and the storm showed no sign of letting up.

For the first time, a cold dread settled deep in her chest.

They might not make it.