Chapter 4: Whiteout

"Put it down," Astrid said.

I set the frame on the table, face up, with both hands where she could see them.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was looking for the flashlight."

"It's behind the radio."

"I know. I didn't mean to."

She crossed the room and took the picture, and she held it against her chest with one hand.

Snow melted on her hair and ran down her temple, and she did not wipe it.

"Her name was Mae," Astrid said.

"I read the back."

"Mae Ecklund." Her voice was thin. "We were partners here. In every way you can be."

"I'm sorry," I said again, because I had nothing else.

"Don't." She shook her head. "Please don't say sorry. Everybody said it and it never moved anything."

I stood very still in my socks, with the draft curling around my ankles.

Then a sound came through the wall that made us both turn.

It was a thin, high yelp, and then another, rising into a howl.

"Pip," I said.

We ran, Astrid in front, and I grabbed my parka from the hook without putting my arms in it.

The wood shed door was open and banging in the wind.

Moose, Juno and Birch stood outside in the drift, barking at the dark.

Pip was gone.

"He pushed the latch," I said. "He's a Houdini."

"Get the rope," Astrid said.

Fear went through me.

A pup could die in a night like this, and the lake was a quarter mile off.

Astrid ran to the lean-to and came back with a coil of rope and two headlamps.

She tied one end to the cabin door handle, wrapped the middle round her waist, and gave me the other end.

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