But he wouldn’t know about one of Elsa’s old under-ledge dens. Echo had helped her father tag cubs there a few years back, but Elsa had abandoned the den long ago. They’d even stayed there once, she and her father, during an especially stormy night.

As long as it wasn’t reclaimed by some other desperate animal . . .

She pulled out her map and found her location, along Cache Creek, maybe eight miles west of the Peters Lake cabin.

The den was only a few miles south, near Remington Mines land. And beyond that, Cache Mountain. She glanced at the sky. The sun had fallen, casting deep shadows along the basin of the valley she’d left behind, darkening the forest. She’d be lucky to make the den before nightfall.

Her adrenaline fell, her heartbeat settling back into place. She thought about the personal locator Barry had given her. She’d clipped it to the edge of her pack after she left his place.

She wanted to check the GPS.

Okay, and maybe even send a note to Dodge.

She couldn’t deny the urge to tell him about the poachers. And maybe . . .

No, she had to stop hoping Dodge would come to her rescue.

She felt around her pack, then searched the pocket.

Gone.

It must have fallen off in her crash. She couldn’t go back—and besides, she’d hardly find it in the snow.

Apparently there were no more miracles for her today. But she didn’t need them. She knew this land, had traveled it in both summer and winter with her father for years.

She mushed the dogs along the ridgeline, then down across a tiny frozen gap in the river, and south through the forest, along deer paths. She turned on her headlamp as the night crept around her.

The dogs were tired. She shouldn’t have run them so far today, she knew that, but again, she’d gotten in over her head.

The den was located under a ledge in a rocky wall that edged up from a valley, chiseled out from an ancient glacial river. She left her sled in the valley and climbed up through the dense forest in the near darkness.

The cavern was maybe eight feet deep and four feet high at the mouth, taller inside. Lying on her stomach, she shone the light inside and found it empty.

She came back down to her team and grabbed her pack. Unhooking the dogs, she dragged the sled into the forest, covered it with brush, then called the team inside the cave.

They whined at the entrance, but she coaxed Granite inside, and the rest crept in after him.

In the darkness, the wind was starting to whip the snow. Maybe her tracks would be covered. And the dogs would keep her warm.