It was so dark. Sophie could only see the outline of her hand in front of her face.

The rest of her while seriously bruised and battered was at least in one piece. The exception was her leg. Bent at an awkward angle as she had hit the ground. The shock had drowned out any pain, at least temporarily. But she wouldn’t be walking any time soon, maybe even ever again.

Just the sight of it made her feel ill. The wind was picking up as she forced herself to her side. A mixture of whimpers and pained hisses escaped her lips.

Sophie had no idea what she was supposed to do. For all her planning she hadn't considered being pushed off a cliff. Her bag was on the top of the cliff, presumably where Mark was.

Even if she had the energy she wouldn’t have called out. Let him come back and finish the job.

One word kept ringing in her mind. Why, why, why, why? What the fuck had she done to deserve being pushed off a cliff. Was her wanting to take this job seriously worth trying to kill her? She had known Mark for years, he’d been her boyfriend for almost two, never had this seemed possible.

Everyone who had ever watched a cop show was that when someone died it was almost always the spouse but… this was… unreal.

It hadn't even been a playful or reluctant push. She had turned around to see him with a determined expression as she shoved her in the chest. His face burned into her mind.

She was so cold. The Alaskan night was draining what little warmth she had. The wind was picking up, the light was gone, and some strange animal was out there. Even if she could see she couldn’t get back to camp, she couldn’t climb up a steep hill let alone stand up. Not to mention she would have to hike around the small mountain.

Sophie was stuck in this valley with nothing but her clothes and a granola bar tucked in her pocket. She brushed her hair from her face, forcing down the feelings that began to rise. If she packed she was dead.

Her tuque was gone, vanished into the night and swallowed up by the trees. She didn’t have time to focus on such stupid things.

Shelter, she needed shelter or she was going to freeze. Where she was was too open, what heat she had was quickly stolen by the wind. She crawled further into the trees, pain radiating up her leg with every lurch.

A fucked up leg was of little importance if she froze to death tonight. She pulled her hood up and pulled her scarf tight to preserve what warmth she had.

Crossing the tree line was a relief, the air still bit at her lungs but the wind didn’t howl quite as much. Everything was outlined, shadows in the dark. She felt numb, from the cold or shock she didn’t know.

People died in their sleep, that’s how the cold killed. First, you went numb, then you went mad, and then you slipped into peaceful slumber never to wake again.

Sophie already felt numb and exhausted. At least she was fairly certain she had a sound grip on reality.

With great effort she pulled herself under the branches of a pine tree, using her mittens to dig a hole haphazardly. It was the best she could do without light; snow was a good insulator, and the tree would also help.

She cursed with pain as she rolled over, shuffling into the makeshift shelter. Her leg was fucked.

Sophie refused to cry, if she let panic overtake her then she was screwed. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She just needed to make it to daylight, then she could… what?

Crawl a several-hour hike through the hills to get back to the car? Crawl up to the camp?

Her breathing shuddered, and tears stung at her eyes. There was no way to even call for help out here. That was why you always went with a buddy. Except Mark had fucking tried to kill her.

She sniffed, wiping away any tears and snot on her face before it froze. The cold here was far harsher than Seattle or anywhere in Washington state.

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A windy screech echoed through the trees. The something out there had gotten closer. Cold shivered through her bones, the heat suddenly torn away from her. Sophie curled closer, trying to protect her fragile self with what little she had. Her heart pounded in her chest, her fingers becoming numb as the blood retreated from her extremities.

She blinked, her eyelids briefly freezing shut. It felt too cold to breathe, the temperature suffocating. Her body urged her to get away, to move. This strange response to something she wasn’t entirely aware of.

She strained her ears, listening for anything. The night was still a clear beautiful night but the forest was haunting. Somewhere close snow crunched, something moving. Or maybe not, maybe it was just snow falling from the trees.

Something breathed nearby, a heavy hollow breath that could have easily been the wind itself. But the glowing eyes which watched her from the darkness were definitely not the wind. It moved, tall and powerful. Shadows obscuring everything but the shape. The height of a bear, the horns of a moose, the predatory aura of a wolf.

Just as quickly the eyes were gone, and the shape was gone just as fast. The suffocating cold seemed to recede. Maybe it had been nothing more than a squirrel, curious as to what this human was doing in the woods. Her mind was her own worst enemy in the dark forest.

The wilderness never got to her like this. But she was freezing in the dark. Panic still lingering, she searched for anything. The shapes of the forest were not a comfort. Then she saw a strange shape not a dozen feet from her. It looked… like a bag. How had she missed that?

A flair of hope lit within her as she forced herself to crawl. This time she hardly noticed the pain, her attention focused on the shape. Pleading with the universe for it not to be a weirdly lumpy piece of snow. Her mitten collided with it, and the plastic sound of fabric made her shudder with relief. It was a backpack, not hers but a backpack.

It was heavy, she could barely pull it. But she needed to get back to her makeshift shelter. After struggling she managed to roll it, a clunky and painful motion but it got the job done. She shuffled her way back into her hole and fumbled with the backpack. Unclasping the straps that held the top part closed.

Her priorities were simple, heat. Her hands lacked finesse, numbed by the cold and shock. She could only pray there were matches or a stove. Matchboxes were small, and not likely to be in the big compartment. She struggled with the zipper of the top, unable to get a grasp with her large mittens.

Frustration and tears building she pulled one off and with a shaky hand finally managed to grab it, zipping the top compartment open. It was so dark, she could barely see the bag itself let alone what was inside. She couldn't feel her hands enough to even use touch.

She shook the bag, the violence and exertion of energy providing some relief to the coiled stress and panic inside her. A small box slipped out and landed in the snow. She had set enough campfires to know that shape. Sophie fumbled with the box, pulling off my other mitten to use what little dexterity she had. It was a matchbox.

Slipping it in her pocket she put my mittens back on. She just needed fuel for a fire. The one benefit of such a cold winter was that it was dry. Sophie grabbed one of the branches on the pine tree and jerked it against the grain to tear it free. It took several tries for her to get it but it was her only option.

Using her good leg Sophie pushed snow away from her makeshift shelter. She put the branch she got on the ground and realized this was not going to work. She tore away a few smaller branches, each jerk sending pain shooting through her leg but after a few minutes, she had a little pile.

Sophie pulled her mittens off and grabbed the matchbox. Her fingers were too stiff to hold it effectively. She pressed them over her mouth and blew warm air into them. Sophie just needed a little mobility. She opened the box and tried to pick up a match but her fingers couldn't grip it.

It was almost comical in a horrible way. She had matches, she had kindling but Sophie was too cold to light a fire. But she couldn't let herself die out here, she couldn't let Mark get away with killing her.

Sophie unzipped her jacket partially, stuffing her hand into her armpit to try and warm them up as much as she could. It didn't do much, her whole body was cold but it was something. The painful tingling in her fingers was something.

After a few moments, and after a few calming breaths, she tried again. This time she had enough dexterity to pick up the matches. Her hands were shaky, it took several attempts for her to hit the right angle and then. Light.

The brief burst of flame and smoke immediately shrank to a smoulder but it worked. Sophie brought it to the branches, mentally willing them to light. But the branches wouldn't catch fire.

“Come on you stupid fire,” she growled, trying again. Pressing the match against the wood and past the needles. The flame extinguished. She cried out in frustration. She needed proper kindling. What did she have?

Her hat was gone, and her mask was soaked with her breath. Mark had the newspaper in his bag he used to light the fire. Fuck fuck fuck.

Dinner, they had eaten dinner. She rummaged through her pockets, praying she had stuffed a paper napkin in her pocket. There was no garbage out here, you carried everything out with you. So maybe… maybe… she grabbed something papery and pulled it out of her pocket. It was a paper napkin.

She shakily tucked it under the branches and fumbled for another match. Her hands had gone numb and weak. But she managed to pinch one between her hand and thumb.

“Fuck,” Sophie cursed, unable to hold on tight enough to light the match. She was so close. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”

After what felt like an eternity it blazed to life. She quickly put it against the paper and it caught immediately, a faint light in the darkness, a small puff of smoke.

“Please work, please work, please work,” Sophie repeated as she used her hands to protect the fire from any wind. Her mantra seemed to work, the branches began to burn. Her fire grew and crackled. Quickly she tore another small branch from the tree and added it. Ensuring it had enough fuel.

Maybe she wouldn't die out here after all.

It didn’t take long for Sophie to have a proper fire. Now she just needed to stay warm. As her body eagerly absorbed the heat Sophie began to push more snow around. Increasing the height of the walls around her. The less heat that escaped the better.

She was exhausted but she couldn't sleep until she knew her fire wouldn't go out. With the matches safely tucked away she pulled out her emergency snack, a protein bar that she never expected to have to use in an emergency. The only food she had, she inhaled it with gusto. She was lucky that she liked to snack on her hikes.

Sophie hadn't put her mittens back on, instead, she kept them close to the flames. It was almost painful but it was better than being numb.

When she was sure the fire wouldn't go out she lay back and curled close to herself. She was alive and she wasn't on the verge of death, she was now painfully aware of how worn her body was. The cold, the fall, the stress, it all weighed on her heavily. It took her no time to fall asleep.

The last thing she noticed before she drifted off was a pair of eyes watching her from the dark.