Embrace the wild

Time to go

After breakfast, Leigh and I slip into the wilderness again. Beyond the cabin, the world is motionless, wrapped in untouched white. Snow lies heavy on the branches, bending them like weary sentinels. Each breath leaves a ghost in the frigid air, fading quickly. The silence feels alive—a presence that listens.

Every day we come here—to hunt, to track, to move like the wild things that birthed us. The rhythm of the woods runs in our blood. Leigh walks ahead, sure and light, excitement radiating from her like sunlight through frost. Sometimes, when she tilts her head, I swear I see our ancestors in her eyes—the same wild gleam, the same fierce joy in the cold.

I wonder what they see when they look at me.

Fear? Doubt? The kind of ache that gnaws at you when peace is only ever a memory?

Leigh flashes me a wide, wild grin, baring her teeth in challenge. Dropping into a crouch, she presses her fingers to the snow, ready to launch. “First one to run the perimeter, bag dinner, and make it back chooses chores,” she says, eyes bright, legs coiled to spring like a predator.

“You’re on!” I shout, laughing, and then I push off, breaking into a run — boots pounding into the snow, arms pumping, lungs filling with the knife-edged air.

The forest erupts around us. Snow bursts from the branches in glittering sprays. My breath burns, sharp and sweet in my chest. The cold slaps my face, waking every nerve. My heartbeat drums in my ears, matching Leigh’s laughter echoing behind me. For minutes, we’re untouchable—two streaks of life cutting through a world of glass and silence.

By the time the cabin comes into view again, dusk has softened the sky into bruised violet and rose. The air carries a faint scent of pine and smoke from our chimney. I sling my bag—two rabbits, still warm—over my shoulder. I’d seen a deer earlier, close enough to take, but something in its eyes stopped me. We locked gazes—two creatures in a fragile truce, prey and predator, both just trying to survive.

To my left, Leigh bursts from the trees, her breath coming out in clouds. She’s dragging a stag, its antlers catching the last scraps of daylight. A trail of crimson paints the snow behind her, stark and shocking against all that white. Of course, she’d go for the biggest kill. That’s Leigh, relentless, fearless, born for the chase.

We reach the porch at the same time, panting, grinning through the cold. A draw. Which means dishes for both of us. Leigh groans; I just laugh, the sound misting in the twilight air.

Through the window, I see Dad’s silhouette by the fire. He’s motioning us inside, his face drawn, pale in the flames. My stomach plunges; cold dread settles heavily inside me.

“Looks serious,” I murmur.

“Probably another move,” Leigh says quietly, her expression hardening. “Didn’t even last a month this time.”

The moment we open the door, warmth hits us—thick, smoky, golden. Woodfire and old pine fill the air, but not the heaviness that settled in the room. Our parents sit on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped tight. Mom’s thumb moves over Dad’s knuckles in worried circles.

“Sit down, girls,” Dad says. His voice is calm, too calm, but the tremor beneath it betrays him.

We move without thinking, without speaking—the way soldiers fall into formation. My heart beats hard against my ribs, loud enough they must hear it.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice thinner than I meant it to be.

Dad looks at us, and there’s something final in his gaze — a quiet kind of grief. “The Hunters are here. They’ve been following us for weeks. We can’t keep running.” His throat tightens as he forces out the next words. “I’ve contacted the team in Alaska. They’re MacGregor blood. You and Leigh will go to them.”

The air leaves my lungs. “What?” My voice cracks. “Dad, no, we go together. We always”

He shakes his head, the firelight catching the gray at his temples. “I’m sick, Allie. I can’t make that journey. If we all go, we don’t make it. But you two still have a chance.”

Mom squeezes his hand, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Some of the team will come for us,” she says softly. “You girls need to be gone by morning. With luck, the Hunters will follow your trail north.”

Leigh’s jaw tightens, her spine straight as iron. “We’ll make it look like we’re all together. That’ll buy you time.” Her tone is steady, but her eyes flicker — a flash of the fear she’ll never admit to.

I can’t find my voice. My throat burns, my chest tight. I’ve never been without my father—never without his protection.

“When do we go?” I whisper.

“Before sunrise,” Dad says. His eyes meet mine, sharp and full of love. “And Allie, watch each other’s backs. Always.”