Chapter 10
An hour into the march, the biting cold began to sap the remaining strength from Leo’s small frame. His movements grew sluggish, and his eyelids felt impossibly heavy, the classic signs of encroaching hypothermia whispering sweet promises of rest that he knew would be fatal. He stumbled over a buried root beneath the snow, falling hard onto his side. The breath left his lungs in a sharp gasp. He lay there for a moment, watching the swirling snow dance in the moonlight, feeling an overwhelming temptation to simply close his eyes and let the cold embrace him entirely.
Buster immediately reacted, trotting back and straddling the fallen boy. The large dog began licking Leo’s face frantically with his warm, rough tongue, letting out distressed, low barks that echoed through the silent woods. The physical stimulation shocked Leo’s nervous system, jarring him back to awareness. He coughed, drawing in a lungful of frigid air, and forced his unresponsive hands to grip the thick fur around Buster’s neck. Get up, boy, he muttered to himself, the words barely audible over the wind. With a supreme effort of will, Leo dragged himself back to his feet, leaning heavily against the warm, solid side of the dog for support.
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They continued down the road, the miles stretching out before them like an endless white desert. Finally, around three in the morning, the dark silhouette of Marcus Vance’s old timber-framed workshop and farmhouse appeared through the trees, a single warm yellow light glowing invitingly from the kitchen window. Hope flared in Leo’s chest. He pushed forward with the last reserves of his energy, stumbling across the snow-covered yard toward the front porch. Buster let out a sharp, authoritative bark that cut through the night, signaling their arrival to anyone inside.
Moments later, the heavy wooden front door swung open, revealing the tall, weathered figure of Marcus Vance holding a kerosene lantern. The old man squinted into the darkness, his rugged face etched with shock as he recognized the small figure wrapped in plaid pajamas clinging to a German Shepherd in the freezing night. Good Lord above, Marcus exclaimed, dropping the lantern safely onto the porch floor and rushing forward to scoop Leo up into his strong, warm arms. Bring him inside, quick! Marcus shouted back into the house, his voice thick with emotion as he carried the shivering boy out of the biting cold and into the sanctuary of the workshop.
