Chapter 1: First Snow

The first flakes came drifting down just after dawn, silent and unhurried, as if the sky itself was sighing. Ellie watched them from the window of the ranger station, her breath fogging the cracked glass. The world outside had turned to soft gray and white, the pines bowing under the weight of the quiet. Joel emerged from the back room, shrugging into his worn canvas coat. He stopped when he saw her, then looked past her at the falling snow. "Hm." That was all. Ellie didn't turn. "It's pretty." "Pretty means trouble if we don't get food," he said, but his voice was gentler than the words. He crossed to the hearth and stirred the embers, adding another log. "Game'll be movin' down from higher ground. Gotta know where they go." She finally turned. "You gonna teach me?" "That's the idea." He pulled a coil of wire from his pack, tested its strength with a quick tug. "First, you learn to set a snare. After that, maybe we find a rabbit or two for supper." Ellie grabbed her jacket and followed him outside. The snow was already an inch deep, muffling their footsteps. Joel led her past the broken-down corral to a game trail that cut through a thicket of bare aspens. He crouched, and she crouched beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his shoulders. "See that?" He pointed to a cluster of tracks, small and sharp in the fresh powder. "Cottontail. Headed from that brush pile to the fallen log. He'll come this way again tonight." She squinted. "How do you know?" "Because he's a creature of habit. Like most folks." He pulled out a length of wire, showed her how to form a loop, how to anchor it to a sturdy branch with a slipknot. "You want the bottom of the loop about two fingers off the ground, right in the middle of the trail. The rabbit sticks his head through, he'll pull tight when he tries to back out." Ellie took the wire, her fingers cold and clumsy. She tried to copy his motion, but the loop kept collapsing. "Screw this." "Easy." Joel's hand covered hers, guiding the twist. "Firm, but not too tight. Steady." She bit her lip and finished the knot. He checked it, nodded. "Good. Now set it." She placed the snare on the trail, adjusted the height. The wire glinted dully against the white ground. Joel stepped back, let her secure the anchor line to a sapling. "That'll hold," he said. "Tomorrow morning we'll check it. If we're lucky, breakfast walked into it." They stood in the falling snow, watching the tiny trap. Ellie's breath came in white puffs. "Joel?" "Yeah?" "This—" She gestured vaguely at the station, the trees, the silence between catastrophes. "Is it okay?" He was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached out and brushed a snowflake from her shoulder. "It's somethin'," he said. "Let's get inside before you freeze." She followed him back, the snare already invisible behind the curtain of white. Overhead, the sky was a flat, patient silver. Somewhere in the woods, a rabbit was moving, following its old path. Neither of them said the word. But the word hung in the air anyway, warm as a promise.