Emily tightened her bootlaces, ignoring the numbness setting into her fingers. It didn't seem to matter which direction she walked, she was hopelessly lost. Looking behind her, the once present footprints were already gone, quickly covered over by a layer of fresh snow. The clothing she'd worn hadn't done a thing for her in staying warm and she wouldn't be surprised if she froze to death. She bit her lip and braved the storm, hoping eventually she'd find some decent shelter. As she clambered through the snow, her negative internal dialogue kicked in and reminded her how stupid she had been to think roughing it in a cabin for two weeks in winter would be the perfect way to finish her novel. Her publisher had talked her into taking a vacation for a change of scenery and to clear her mind. With a deadline approaching, she needed complete concentration to deliver the next novel in the series. Reluctantly, Emily gave in and packed her bags.
Her stomach gurgled for the umpteenth time and she desperately wished for a French vanilla cappuccino, or anything to warm her insides.
Now thanks to her inexperience and nonexistent sense of direction, she was lost in the middle of a snowstorm, cold and hungry.
A distinct smell traveled along with a powerful gust of wind that nearly toppled her over. It was the scent of wood, herbs, and if she wasn't mistaken, lamb. She followed the sumptuous aroma until she came to cabin, the first one she'd seen, complete with rows of logs all cut the same length. If this was a mirage, it was a damn fine one.
Her legs were ready to give out, but she made her way to the door, the powdery snow crunching loudly beneath her highly impractical boots. Forcing her hand into a fist, she pounded against the battered wood and hoped someone was home.
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