Mathew sprinted to the edge of the woods, screaming his son’s name until his voice cracked. The trees seemed to soak up the sound, offering nothing in return but the rustle of dry branches. The footprints were already starting to fill with fresh, falling flakes. If they didn’t act now, the mountain would erase the only map they had to find their son.
By the time the sun began to dip behind the jagged peaks, the driveway was full of trucks. News travels fast in a small mountain community. Neighbors arrived with heavy coats, high-powered flashlights, and the grim determination of people who knew how quickly a child could be lost to the elements. A formal search committee was formed on the fly in Mathew’s garage.