The monster’s people were catching up to her. Their hands would be on her, a knife in her kidney, long before she could reach the granite slopes. She had to think of something else. But thinking was hard. Her vision was blurry now, her breath so loud in her own ears. The pit of hunger in her tummy was dragging her down, down, down, making her stumble in the snow. Her feet were so cold she could hardly feel them.

She spied a huge slate-colored boulder jutting out of the snow. Beside it was a pine tree, thick with white-laden branches. The girl had climbed plenty of trees. They were familiar. Safe. She plunged toward the boulder.

Its surface was slick and icy cold, and her feet slid down as much as they pushed her up, and she wasted precious seconds scrambling to the top. From there, it was an easy reach to a sturdy pine branch. She hoisted the basket’s handle to her shoulder, grabbed the branch with both hands, and lifted one leg and hooked it around.

She’d done it a hundred times before—swung the dangling leg to provide momentum enough to propel her to the top of the branch. But she was hungry and cold, and the heavy basket yanked at her shoulder, and she couldn’t quite manage it. She tried again. And again. The third time, one of her hands slipped on the slick branch. Her basket swung wildly against her back, and all of its contents spilled out, crashed to the boulder below, then slid off the rock to plunk down into the snow.

“No!” the girl cried out, before she remembered that hiding from someone meant being very, very quiet.

Maybe she should leave all those things behind. Jump from the tree and take off again. Without a basket full of heavy things, she could go faster. Maybe even run for real.

But she needed that cloak and that tinderbox. Cloak, fire, and food.

More voices. A horse neighing.

Panic leaped in her throat. The girl released the branch and fell hard against the boulder, bruising her hip. She half climbed, half slid to the ground, gathered up the cloak and tinderbox as fast as she could. Her hip didn’t want to move, but she forced herself to stumble forward, away from the traitor tree, even as she stuffed her precious items back into the basket.

Snow began to fall, lightly at first.

Ahead was a break in the trees. Maybe. It was hard to see. Everything blurred, and the sun had disappeared behind furious black clouds. The girl wiped at her eyes, and wetness smeared the back of her hand, turning instantly chilly. Tears. But she was not crying, she wasn’t; it was just the angry wind, making her eyes water.

Blinking rapidly, she pushed through the snow toward the place where the trees seemed to part. Not much farther.

Someone yelled. She didn’t recognize the words, but she knew that excited tone. They seemed very close. The girl dared to look over her shoulder, but she saw no one.