Page 172 of Heart of Frost and Scars

Don’t turn your back on that one.

He nods and moves deeper into the gorge.

As the delicate wings of the butterflies flutter around me, I can almost see Wolf here, a ghost among the living.

Leo and I hike along the river, side by side, scenting the air and listening to the wind.

The midnight sun blurs the passage of time, its unrelenting light allowing us to push ourselves to the brink.

But as the hours pass and the miles drain the last of our energy, the landscape becomes increasingly unfamiliar. The initial sense of recognition fades, replaced by frustration and exhaustion.

No one has been here. No tracks. No signs of human life. Not in the past year. Maybe not ever.

“This isn’t right.” Leo pauses, tangling a hand in his hair. “None of this feels right.”

I nod, the truth of his words settling in my gut. “This isn’t our gorge.”

James signals for us to regroup and gather our gear. As we make our way back to the plane, I take one last look at the river.

I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But I didn’t expect the first failure to sit so heavily in my chest.

That’s what hope does. It crushes.

We wasted an entire day because of me. Because I picked the wrong fucking gorge.

How many more gorges will we hike? How many more days will we be separated from Frankie?

Too many.

Deep in my bones, I know this will take time, endurance, and patience.

Naturally, my mood is shit. The flight back to Fairbanks sucks, and luckily for Sirena, she has enough self-preservation to stay the fuck away from me.

We sleep in a cabin in Fairbanks, refueling the plane and our spirits, only to start again the next morning.

The search is relentless, and every day brings more of the same. A familiar landmark, hours of hiking, return to Fairbanks, rinse, and repeat.

Each night, we check in with Monty using the satellite equipment. The connection crackles, a lifeline to civilization we never had before. It’s my favorite part of every day.

“Monty.” I adjust the receiver. “Any updates on your end?”

“Nothing new here.” His voice comes through, steady and composed. “Wilson is still narrowing down the suspect list. How’s the search going?”

“Slow.” I glance at Leo, who’s pacing the small cabin. “The terrain is more challenging than we anticipated. But we’re not giving up.”

“Good. Keep pushing. I wish I were with you.”

“How’s she doing?”

“You can ask her yourself. Hang on.” The sound of footsteps on wood flooring scrapes through the connection, followed by the creak of a door. “Frankie?”

A moment later, her soft lilt brushes my ears. “Kody? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. We’re safe. Just checking in.”

Leo grabs the phone, his voice gentler than I’ve heard in days. “Hey, love. How are you holding up?” He listens, nods, and exchanges a glance with me. “We’re doing everything we can. Just stay safe. We love you, too.”

As the call ends, the cabin falls silent.

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