052 | THE HAND THAT REACHES

“Max,” I hissed, grabbing his wrist and yanking him into step beside me. I pointed with my other hand, proud to see that my finger did not tremble.

“Shit,” he breathed. “Okay. Oh–”

“Hello?” I called, cutting him off. “Can you hear us?”

The fingers twitched, but there was no change.

“They can’t be alive, Haile. That snow… It could have been on top of them for hours.”

I ignored him. “Click your fingers if you can hear us.”

Slowly, shaking violently, the fingers clicked.

Max’s eyes went wide. “Okay. Okay. Okay.”

“It will be,” I said, dropping his wrist, “if we get them out of there. Come on.”

I grabbed the hand sticking out of the snow. It was frozen, and the fingers were stiff as I bent them around my palm. Max shifted into his roan wolf form and started to dig, flinging sheets of ice and compacted snow up into the grey sky. I tightened my hold on the frozen hand, willing my fragile warmth to pool into their skin.

“We’ll get you out,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. “You’ll b