Page 8 of Chasing the Wild
The group assembled with varying degrees of concern. Some looked relieved at the prospect of cutting the day short and heading back to camp. Others—like me—looked uneasy at the way Sam's jaw had tightened as he studied the sky.
"How bad is it?" Richard asked, following Sam's gaze to the rapidly building cloud formation.
"Bad enough that we need to start packing up now," Sam said. "This is moving faster than the forecast predicted. We're looking at possible whiteout conditions within the hour."
"Whiteout?" Amanda's voice rose an octave. "But it's October. It's not supposed to snow yet."
"The mountains don't check the calendar," Sam replied, already moving toward his ATV to grab his radio. "And storms up here can go from manageable to deadly in minutes."
I felt my stomach drop as the first snowflakes began to fall. Light and almost pretty, drifting down like something out of a winter postcard. But I could see the tension in Sam's shoulders, the way his eyes kept tracking the darkening sky, and I knew this was anything but picturesque.
"Everyone pack your gear," he ordered. "We're evacuating to the lodge. It's about a mile and a half back down the trail. Stay together, stay visible, and do exactly what I say when I say it. Understood?"
A chorus of nervous agreement rippled through the group.
Sam's eyes found mine across the clearing, and something passed between us. A look that saidstay close, stay safe, I've got you. I nodded, trying to project confidence I didn't feel as I started breaking down my tent with shaking hands.
The temperature was dropping fast now. What had been a pleasant autumn afternoon was rapidly becoming something else entirely. The wind picked up, carrying snow that was no longer gentle but driving, stinging against exposed skin.
"Faster, people," Sam called, moving through the group to help those struggling with their gear. I grabbed my pack, cramming in my gear. My hands were clumsy with cold and adrenaline, but I managed to get everything.
"Good girl," Sam murmured, and I shivered. He had to stop doing that. "Stay close to me. Right behind me in line. If visibility gets bad, hold onto my pack. Don't let go."
"Okay," I said, trying not to let my voice shake.
His hand came up to cup my face briefly. "You're going to be fine. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."
The certainty in his voice steadied me.
Within minutes, we were moving. Sam led, setting a pace that was fast but manageable. I stayed right behind him like he'd instructed, my eyes locked on the broad expanse of his back. Behind me, the other lawyers followed in varying states of panic and determination.
The snow was falling harder now, thick flakes that clung to our clothing and obscured the trail. I was becoming harder to see, and I found myself reaching for Sam's pack like he'd suggested, needing the physical connection to feel grounded.
"Good," he said without turning around. "Keep that contact. Don't let go."
We'd been hiking for maybe twenty minutes when I heard a cry behind me. I turned to see Amanda sprawled on the ground, her face twisted in pain.
"My ankle," she gasped. "I think I twisted it."
The group stopped, clustering around her in confusion. Sam was beside her in seconds, his hands gentle but efficient as he assessed the injury.
"It's already swelling," he said grimly. "Can you walk?"
Amanda tried to stand and immediately collapsed with a cry of pain. "No. I can't."
Sam's jaw clenched as he looked at the sky. The storm was intensifying by the minute. Already, I could barely see the trees on either side of the trail. We were running out of time.
"I'll carry her," he decided. "Everyone else, we need to move fast. Jess—"
He looked at me, and I saw something in his eyes. A decision being made. A trust being offered.
"You take point," he said.
"What?" I stared at him. "Sam, I don't know the trail. I can't—"
"You can." His voice was absolute certainty. "The trail's marked with orange blazes on the trees. Stay between them and you'll be fine. I'll be right behind you with Amanda. If you lose the trail, stop and wait for me. But you can do this, Jess. I know you can."
He was asking me to lead. To trust myself. To stop second-guessing and just act.
