It did.
Jake will be pissed. I left him a note on the table, letting him know we were heading deeper into the woods to the fishing cabin. Of course, there’s no guarantee Kaleb is there, but it’s the likeliest choice. I don’t care if Jake follows us. I only refrained from waking him, because I knew he’d stop us.
Noah pulls to a stop ahead of me, the flakes growing thicker as they whip across our faces.
He looks at the map, removing his goggles and wiping his eyes.
“I thought you knew the way,” I tell him, stopping at his side.
“Just gimme a break.” He turns the map around and searches the terrain. “I’ve been up here five times in my life, all before the age of twelve. Kaleb and Dad like it up here, not me.”
“Great.” I shake my head.
Taking the laminated document from him, I scan Jake’s sketch. He mapped the area years ago, marking his own landmarks—ponds, streams, caves. Things that were recognizable to him.
To me, it’s Chinese, though. The mountains and trees on the map all look the same as I scan the area around us.
I shove it back at Noah, letting out a hard sigh. Don’t we have GPS thingies now? Something that taps into a satellite? I curl my toes in my boots, my legs shaking a little. I take a step, sinking knee deep into the snow as I do a three-sixty and look around me.
The tree boughs sparkle in white, bunches of pine cones hanging from the branches, and I spot a narrow ravine to the left. I pull out my water bottle from my pack, both of us loaded down with everything we could carry when we finally had to abandon the snow mobiles due to the terrain. We’ve been on foot since eight this morning, our rifles strapped to our bags.
I look up at the clouds again, unable to even locate the sun. It must be around two in the afternoon, though.
“Kaleb said it was ‘in the valley’,” I tell Noah. “‘Where the river creeps and the wind rushes.’”
“Kaleb said?”
I glance at him, mumbling, “I found a journal. Of sorts.”
He stares at me for a moment, but then fixes his gaze out on the horizon of the lonely white forest.
“Valley with a river...” he murmurs to himself.
Studying the map again, he chews his chapped lip, looking confused. “I have no idea,” he blurts out. “I don’t see that here. Did he say anything else?”
“Surrounded by the creaks?” I tell him, unsure if I read that correctly in the book. “Not a creek. Creaks. Like the sound.”
Noah straightens, staring off as the wheels turn in his head. I move in front of him, giving my back to the wind.
Fuck, it’s cold.
“What?” I ask him.
He blinks. “It was like a flue,” he says. “Like a chimney flue. The glen was small, enclosed by rock walls and trees. When the wind would blow in, it would rush through and out, sounding like a chimney flue.”
He lifts his chin, his shoulders relaxing as he exhales. Thunder cracks overhead, and I glance to the sky, hugging myself.
“And the snow from the peak would melt and come down in a waterfall that we couldn’t see beyond the walls of the glen, but the flow forked into two streams,” he finally remembers. “One feeds where we fish. The other…” He meets my eyes. “I know where he is.”
I close my eyes. Thank God.
Without another word, he darts to the left, near the ravine, and pulls off his hood, leaving him in his black ski cap to see better. He takes my hand as we stumble and slide down the hill.
The sky bellows again, and wind sweeps through the narrow valley, flakes stinging my face as they hit. I pull my warmer up over my mouth and nose, seeing lightning strike across the sky.
I whip around, worried.
“Shit,” Noah exclaims, pulling me faster. “Come on.”