The wind screamed through the mountains, like a banshee’s wail that drowned out Daniel’s ragged breaths. Snow lashed against his face, blinding, unrelenting. Every step forward felt like trudging through quicksand, his boots sinking into the deep drifts, his muscles burning with cold.
His gloved fingers were stiff, gripping the useless GPS in his trembling hands. The screen flickered before going dark. The GPS was dead. He sucked in a sharp breath—he was truly lost. The realization hit him like a wave. The storm had swallowed the trail, and with it, his way home.