We fall silent again. I can tell she’s getting in her head. If she starts focusing on the cold and the misery, she is going to slow down. That is dangerous.

“So, what’s with the camera?” I prompt, trying to think of something to talk about.

“I told you.”

“Is it expensive?” I ask. “You didn’t want to leave it in the plane.”

“It is expensive. And it’s like my right hand. I need it. You never know when the perfect shot is going to present itself.”

I need to keep her talking, even if it slows us down a little. “Where have you been?” I ask, finding myself a little out of breath. “I mean for pictures.”

“I’ve been to Australia, deep into the Outback. The wildlife there is amazing, but the heat is brutal. And I’ve been to Antarctica. The landscape there is otherworldly, and the penguins...they’re just incredible.”

“Damn, that’s wild.” I’m thoroughly impressed.

“Last year, I took a trip to Peru,” she goes on.

“Peru?” I let the question hang in the air.

“Yes, I was photographing the Andean condor in its natural habitat. Astonishing creatures, they are just stunning.”

I find myself intrigued by her passion for wildlife. Despite the snow, the emergency landing, and our dire situation, she can still talk enthusiastically about her work.

“Cold down there, too,” I remark, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Yes, though not quite as cold as this.”

“Bet you’ve never faced snow this deep, though.”

“No indeed,” she replies, a hint of anxiety creeping back into her voice. “So far, it has been desert heat, high altitude chill, and tropical humidity. Nothing like this.”

She stops talking, and I can tell she’s trying to conserve her energy. The expansive white landscape yawns before us as we trudge onward.

“Have you been to this cabin before?” I ask.

She doesn’t immediately answer. The snow makes walking difficult, and we both feel it. The muscles in my legs are burning for exertion, but the rest of my body is frozen to the core. I’m grateful she is dressed for the weather.

Too many times, I’ve flown rich people to their huge lodges, only to see them step out in outfits better suited for a gala in LA. It takes everything I have not to lecture them about dressing appropriately. But that’s none of my business, and I will continue to keep my mouth shut. The investigation had me grounded for too long. I need every client I can get.

“So, this friend of yours, the biologist,” I prod, trying to keep the conversation going. “How long have you known him?”

“I’ve known Eric for a few years. He is such a sweetheart. We met on an expedition in Yellowstone. He’s passionate about wolves and tracks them up here in the winter.”

I figure he must be a boyfriend or something. I notice the change in her tone. There’s a smile in her voice. The immediate jealousy I feel is stupid. I have no claim to her. I don’t even know her. She might be obnoxious. From my limited interaction with her, I could definitely see her being difficult. She is stubborn and headstrong, that is for sure.

But she is also intriguing, and despite her attachment to that damn camera, she is pretty low-key. Any other person who went through that storm would have probably screamed and panicked. She handled it pretty well. I am grateful for that. A hysterical passenger would have distracted me. We very well could have crashed if I was stuck dealing with a shrieking lunatic.

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“I was born in Colorado,” she replies.

“Is that where Eric is from as well?”

“No. He’s from Washington.”

“Do you guys have a long-distance thing?”

She stops walking and looks at me quizzically. “A long-distance thing?”