When she relaxed underneath him, he knew she was getting warm. Lifting his head, he looked down at her. She was breathing normal now, her eyes calm.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Anytime.” He grinned and got off her.
She sat up and looked around, grateful to be alive. “We should have stayed at Crimson Morning,” she said in a light tone. Humor diffused how close she’d come to dying. But she meant what she had said.
Did she think Crimson Morning would have been safer? “That shooter might have found us there.” He stood and extended his hand, which she ignored, then stood on her own and said, “Let’s get to the next yurt.”
Keeping an eye on her, watching for signs of injury, he started to look for her skis. One of them was right next to where she’d been buried. The other took some searching.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Korbin asked when they were under way again. If she wasn’t, she’d still have to ski to Silver Plume. They were closer to that than Crimson Morning.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
She’d probably be sore and bruised, but it could have been so much worse. Korbin still struggled with shaking off the memories of Niya. Why had they hit him then? They hit him often but usually he could put them out of his mind. Not so today. Today, they tormented him. Maybe that was because he’d saved Savanna and hadn’t been able to save Niya and as usual, guilt riddled him.
* * *
Wind whipped snowflakes against the balaclava that covered Savanna’s face and spotted her goggles. They’d had to stop to check a compass several times, and skiing against the wind had slowed them down. Beside her, Korbin bent his snow-caked body to remove his bindings. It had taken them two hours longer to get here through the storm. She was cold and sore everywhere.
It was dark now, which had made getting here even harder. Korbin hadn’t said much. Not that talk would have been easy with all the other challenges. Grimness had settled over him. At first she thought he was worried they wouldn’t make it to Silver Plume. But it was more than that.
Sticking her skis in the snow beside Korbin’s, out of sight from any passersby once the storm cleared, Savanna marched through the snow to the yurt door. Up under the overhang, she found the built-in container open on the top and retrieved the key. Hurley had told her where he kept spares at all of the yurts.
The octagonal yurt had two windows in front, but the wood panels were shut from the outside. Hurley had prepared them all for the blizzard. A wood-burning stove was in the center, with two twin-size beds underneath a cramped loft, two uncomfortable-looking chairs and a love seat to the right, and a kitchen with a small island on wheels. There was even a bathroom with a composting toilet and shower in a small enclosed room, the door next to the kitchen cabinets. There was no electricity. The yurt was dark. Savanna fumbled around until she found a flashlight in a kitchen drawer.
In a trunk at the foot of one of the beds, there were camping lanterns. While Korbin lit a fire in the wood-burning stove, she put three of the lanterns out, one in the kitchen, one in the living room and one between the beds.
Within thirty minutes the yurt began to warm. Savanna removed her hat and jacket. She’d be stuck with sleeping in her base layer.
Going into the kitchen, she began to scrounge for something to eat. They’d burned a ton of calories today and she was starving. Hurley kept the yurts stocked with a lot of canned and boxed food. Ordinarily he’d charge skiers who stayed here, but the main reason he kept them stocked was for emergencies like this.