A winter trip into the forest for four becomes a fight for survival.

Four people gather to close their remote mountain cabins. For the brother and sister, these days offer them an opportunity to come to terms with their nightmarish upbringing. The professional athlete must face the end to his career and try to find a purpose for the future. He brings with him a woman who shields her wounded heart beneath her perfect body.

Then the ferocious storm hits, trapping them far from civilization. Whiteout is a battle for survival. It also lays bare the complexity of human vulnerability, strength, and weakness. 

As they fight for life, they're watched by the restless, lonely spirit that knows what it means to battle and lose. Four humans reach Wolf Lake.

Not all will live to leave it.

 

The wind was more than brisk this morning. He’d been watching it flatten the ground cover, and his ears ached from the pressure being exerted on them. During the night, most of the clouds had broken up and it had dropped to near freezing, but they were coming back and more purple than gray. His world was tinged dark lavender, everything feeling electric and alive.

“What’s the weather forecast?” he asked.

“There you go changing the subject again. You’ve got serious problems, boy.”

“I asked about the weather. That doesn’t make me mentally unbalanced.”

“Ha!”

Stopping, Henri looked around. He’d begun to lose his hair and wore it long at the top to downplay that fact. What he had now stood on end, adding another half foot to his considerable height. He tried to press it into place.

“We’re going to have a storm,” he said.

“You think?”

“Don’t get smart with me, kid. I could take you with one hand tied behind my back.”

He probably could. “What else does your crystal ball say? Or maybe it’s your arthritis kicking up. Is it gonna snow?”

“I don’t have no arthritis, boy, and don’t you forget it.” Henri stuck his finger in his mouth to moisten it, and then held it aloft. “Nope. No snow. Hail and two tornadoes but no snow.”

The Crater Lake area was an insatiable mistress that had brought Jace under her spell the first time he’d come here. Cherokee’s death had taught him how cruel she could be and at times he hated her, but he could never dismiss her. The awesome forces that resulted in her creation were what fascinated most people. Only a few concerned themselves with the reaction of the ancient people who’d been the only ones to see the immense explosion.

The woman he’d talked to yesterday, the one who’d asked about Cherokee’s marker, had. She’d also left him feeling off balance. He’d had no intention of revealing anything of a personal nature around her, and yet he had. And in the wake of what he’d blurted, her expression and big, lonely eyes had said she cared.