Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

G emma peered out through one of the cracks between the boards of her shack, watching the guards. The night was bitterly cold and they were huddled around a fire barrel. The clink of bottles was followed by raucous laughter. With Garth, the mine owner, away on business they were more interested in drinking than patrolling the mining camp. Good. That meant they stood a chance.

She unfolded the tattered map again, studying it in the thin stream of moonlight. She’d traded her only piece of jewelry—her mother’s silver chain—for this map from one of the supply runners, praying that it was genuine. The risk had been worth it.

A thin line twisted like a serpent between the surrounding peaks—a trail that would lead them through the mountains to an outpost on the other side. The only other alternative was the heavily guarded main road. Even if a guard didn’t spot them, a search party would head in that direction. With any luck they weren’t even aware of the mountain pass.

Not that luck had been in much supply for the past few years, but maybe it was time for that to change. She traced the path again, every twist and turn already committed to memory. If they made good time, they could reach the trading outpost within a few days. Hopefully she could find work there and save up enough to pay their way back to the city.

And then what , a despairing voice asked. Work had been hard to find before—it was one of the reasons she had fallen prey to Garth’s recruiter, a trustworthy looking older man with a charming smile.

“Good honest work,” he’d said, flashing neat white teeth. “Three meals a day and a roof over your head.”

His promises had shone like fool’s gold—beautiful on the surface, worthless underneath. The “roof” turned out to be a tiny, drafty shack that ate half her wages, and the meals were skimpy and barely edible.

She could have endured it all—the backbreaking work, the cold, the hunger—until spring arrived and they had a better chance of escape. But then Garth had visited their shack two days ago, his shadow filling the doorway as he’d looked at her son, pale and silent behind her.

“Boy’s old enough to work,” he said, running his thumb along the scar on his jaw. “Small hands are good for tight spaces.”

“Liam’s too young,” she pleaded.

“He don’t work, he don’t eat.” Garth gave her a malicious smile. “I’ll have to cut back on your rations.”

She bit back a sob as he left. Their portions were minimal enough already. How could they make do on less? But the thought of Liam in the mines was unbearable. They had to get away—and with Garth gone this was their best opportunity.

Her hands shook as she layered on every piece of clothing she owned. There weren’t many and they were all worn, but every little bit would help. The pack she’d hidden beneath the loose floorboard felt far too light as she pulled it free, but it contained everything she’d been able to save or scavenge. Her muscles ached from her last shift in the mine, but there was no time for rest. She moved silently to the narrow cot they shared.

Liam curled on his side, breath steady in sleep. The sight of him, so small and vulnerable, sent a fresh surge of determination through her veins. She touched his shoulder gently.

His eyes fluttered open, wide and green, just like hers.

“Is it time?”

“Yes, baby.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Remember what we practiced?”

He nodded, his eyes huge and scared. He slipped from beneath the thin blanket without a sound and pulled on the extra pair of socks she’d scavenged last week. The sight of him moving with such careful precision made her heart ache—no six-year-old should need to know how to escape in the night.

She helped him into his clothes as well, layer by careful layer. His thin frame disappeared beneath the bulk of fabric, but better too warm than frozen. The sound of drunken laughter drifted through the shack walls. Her hands threatened to shake again as she fastened his coat, but she forced them steady.

“Quick and quiet,” he whispered, repeating their mantra.

“That’s right.” She rolled up the blanket and tied it to their pack, then took his hand. “Quick and quiet.”

She pressed a finger to her lips and peered out again. The guards passed another bottle between them, their movements sluggish. The icy air found every gap in her layers of clothing, but the cold was their ally. No one would expect an escape attempt in this weather.

“Remember what I told you?” she whispered.

He nodded, his small face serious. “Stay quiet. Hold your hand tight. Don’t let go even if—” His voice wavered.

“That’s right.” She pulled him close, breathing in his scent. “And if anything happens?—”

“Run to the big rock shaped like a turtle and hide in the cave behind it.” He squeezed her hand. “But nothing’s gonna happen, right, Mama?”

The bruise on his face seemed to darken in the shadows. One of the guards had given him that when Liam accidentally ran into him. The backhand she’d been too slow to stop still played in her mind.

“That’s right. Are you ready?”

He nodded, and she adjusted the small pack on her shoulders. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do.

Liam’s hand tightened around hers, his grip strong despite his size.

The guards erupted in another round of drunken laughter. She took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open. The door hinges had been oiled over the past week, a drop at a time to avoid suspicion. It opened without a creak. The bitter wind sliced through her cloak, but she welcomed it as long as it kept the guards huddled around the fire barrel.

They crept between the shacks, staying in the shadows as far away from the guards as they could. Liam stayed silent at her side clutching her hand as if his life depended on it. The thought of what might happen if they were caught made her shudder and she tried to pick up the pace.

From the mine entrance, the clang of pickaxes echoed out into the night. Night shift—the worst of all possible assignments. Her heart ached as she watched the dark figures moving in and out of the shaft, their shoulders bowed under the weight of endless labor. All of them trapped by false promises and wages that never quite seemed to cover their debts.

As they reached the edge of the camp, she pulled Liam closer as she checked to make sure no one was in sight. The perimeter fence loomed over them, its metal links gleaming with frost. She’d found the weak spot several weeks ago—a section where the ground had eroded beneath the fence leaving just enough space for a small woman and a child to squeeze through.

“Remember the hole?” She crouched beside him. “You first, then me. Flat on your stomach.”

He nodded, then dropped to the ground and wiggled through the gap. Even with the extra layers of clothing, he fit easily. She had a little more trouble. The fabric of her threadbare cloak ripped as she forced her way beneath the fence, the sound shockingly loud in the still night. She held her breath, expecting a shout of discovery, but only the distant clink of tools answered.

She scrambled through, her heart pounding, but despite her panic she lingered long enough to brush away the marks they’d left and stuff some brush against the gap to conceal it.

“Which way?” Liam’s voice was barely a whisper.

She pointed to a darkened slope rising up behind the camp. “Up there.”

The path wasn’t visible from here but she placed her faith in the map and led him up the slope to where it was supposed to begin. The narrow trail was barely discernible, but it was there and she breathed a sigh of relief. The camp’s lights dimmed behind them as they picked their way through the rocks.

Moonlight silvered the landscape, casting long shadows across their path. She would have preferred more cover but at least the moonlight made it easier to see. The cold air burned her lungs, but she welcomed the bite—anything was better than the stale, choked atmosphere of the mine. Above them, the mountain peaks loomed black against the star-scattered sky.

Clouds started scudding across the moon making visibility more challenging, and she finally decided they were far enough away from camp to pull out the battered tin lantern. Her hands shook as she struck the match, but the flame caught, casting a warm circle of light around them. The narrow path ahead wound between towering rock faces, barely wide enough for them to walk single file, but it helped block some of the wind.

They trudged on. Liam never complained, even though she could read the exhaustion in his small body. She picked him up and carried him a few times but she was weak from the months of poor food and back-breaking labor and couldn’t manage for long.

The walk seemed endless—just the pool of lantern light and the endless rocks—but she was determined to get as far away from the camp as possible before daylight. The wind picked up, whipping her braid across her face, and more clouds rolled in. She estimated they’d been walking for about two hours when the first snowflakes drifted down.

It’s just a few flakes , she told herself. It will help obscure our tracks.

But the snow gradually increased until the air was filled with white. The wind howled down through the pass, driving needles of ice against her cheeks. She raised the lantern higher, but its light scattered uselessly against the wall of white, and despair crashed down over her. They needed to find shelter—fast.

She even considered returning to the camp, but they had come too far. They wouldn’t last that long. She squinted through the whiteout, searching for any break in the rock face, any overhang that might offer protection. Liam shivered against her side and she stopped long enough to wrap their blanket around him.

“Is that better?”

“Y-yes.”

He gave her a brave smile but she knew it wasn’t enough. One step at a time, she guided them forward, running her free hand along the frozen stone in case she’d missed an opening. There had to be something, somewhere they could wait out the storm.

Her legs burned with each step, her muscles screaming in protest, but she forced herself to keep moving, trying to use her body to protect her son from the wind. She gave a sob of relief when a dark slash appeared in the rock wall—a narrow crevice just wide enough for them to squeeze through. She pulled Liam inside, setting down the lantern to wrap her arms around him. The space blocked the worst of the wind, but cold still seeped through the stone at her back.

“We’ll rest here a minute.”

Despite her best efforts, her voice trembled, and she pressed her cheek against Liam’s frozen curls, knowing the lie for what it was. The crevice wouldn’t protect them from the killing cold.

His teeth chattered against her neck.

“I’m s-scared.”

“I know, baby.”

She pulled him closer, her heart breaking. What had she done, leading them out here to freeze? Better to die trying to escape , her mind argued, but she didn’t want their story to end this way.

Liam’s breathing slowed, and she knew the cold was lulling him into sleep. She jostled him gently, the fear of hypothermia pushing through the haze in her own mind.

“Stay awake, baby. Tell me a story.”

“Once upon a t-time,” he murmured against her neck, “there was a b-boy who wanted to play in the snow.” His words slurred. “His m-mama said no, he had to work in the mine, but he s-snuck out anyway…”

He trailed off again.

“Keep talking, baby.” Her voice was thick. “Please.”

Maybe they should keep going, find a better shelter, but her limbs felt too heavy to move.

“There was a m-man, a nice man, in the woods.”

“A nice man?”

“He had h-horns.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his eyelids fluttering closed again.

“Tell me?—”

Something moved in the curtain of snow, gradually resolving into the shape of a man, but taller than any man she’d ever seen, his head topped with… horns? Her breath caught as the shape stepped closer, and the lantern light caught silver eyes that gleamed like mirrors in the darkness.

She blinked, certain she was hallucinating. The figure came to a halt at the entrance to the crevice, and she almost shuddered with relief at the break from bitter wind. He was close enough now that she could pick out more details. He was wrapped in a heavy white coat that surrounded him completely. His face was almost human, with a fringe of thick white beard and long hair to match, but those horns, and those eyes…

Not a coat , she thought sluggishly. Fur. White fur. Not human.

Her arms tightened around her son as the creature’s head tilted, studying them with an unblinking silver gaze. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. They were trapped between the rock and a creature who shouldn’t exist.