Rescued

While crossing the final mountain range, a young woman and her infant girl become separated from their people. Freak autumn storms have been passing over like migrating flocks. Snow is now hip-high, deeper in the many gullies and ravines, blurring the earth's contours and erasing any sense of ease.

She spots a boulder on a high crest and settles there even though it's open and windy. She needs to stay visible for the search party. Her dilated eyes rake the white expanse for any movement. In the thin cobalt light, she can see every fold in the bark, every crenellation in the snow.

The afternoon sun eventually slants and then lowers from her sight. She despairs about her baby, slung across her back, sleeping unaware in her thick swaddling, The quickening of her heartbeat forms a mantra, then a melody: my baby is warm, my baby is fed, my baby is fine, I am fine, we are fine. After a few rounds, a command comes, finishing her song like a coda: string together moments of being fine. If she…