“Angela! Come quick!” Mathew shouted toward the stairs, though he knew his wife was still in her home office with her headphones on. When she appeared at the top of the landing, seeing the look on Mathew’s face, her smile instantly vanished. She didn’t need to ask. The open door and the empty chair told the whole story.
They burst out onto the porch, the freezing mountain air biting at their lungs. The backyard was a sea of white, and leading away from the porch steps was a single, wobbling trail of footprints. Michael—or Mike, as he preferred to be called when he was feeling “brave”—had followed something straight into the mouth of the pine forest.