Colton had the snowmobiles running by the time Francis reached the outbuilding.
Three machines, engines turning over in the cold, exhaust rising straight in the still air. Walsh was already mounted on the third. Reyes took the second. Francis swung onto the back of Colton's and they went out through the outbuilding doors and east across the yard and into the tree line before the yard was fully behind them.
The eastern path was narrow and the snowmobiles took it fast, branches close on both sides, the machines loud in the quiet forest. Colton drove without hesitation, following the path he'd memorized during the night patrols, leaning into the turns, reading the ground ahead. Francis held on and watched the trees on both sides and the path behind them in his peripheral vision.
Two minute
