Edge of the Ridge

The group had long since passed out of the Hollow, by the time the sun broke through the clouds. The world was white and interminable. The strands of snow were extended over the forest bed to the roots, and stones and the slight impressions of the trail. It was stinging-cold in the air. It smelled fresh, almost smack of new, as if the forest had wiped the land of everything that preceded it.

Annabelle was pacing up. Her movements were very gradual but sure. With climbing the ...