The radio erupted in a chorus of cheers and shouts that Mathew could hear even without the device. Below them on the mountain, dozens of flashlights began to dance and wave in celebration. Mathew sat there in the snow for a long minute, holding his son, feeling the boy’s small heart beating against his chest. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
“Are you mad at me?” Michael asked, his head resting on Mathew’s shoulder. Mathew choked out a laugh, half-sob. “No, Mike. I’m not mad. But next time, tell me when you feel like going outside or following an animal, okay?” He stood up, hoisting the boy into his arms. He felt a sudden, incredible strength; the fatigue of the last six hours had vanished.