It didn’t matter how long she’d been going, after all. It just mattered that she kept going.
The wind howled around her, and she scrunched her hands up inside her gloves. Her arms and legs were freezing, but fortunately her chest, where Emily was sleeping, was still warm. She could feel the baby’s little breaths as she walked, and they gave her strength.
But she still didn’t see anyone else, or any buildings.
I can keep going, she thought fiercely. I’ll keep going forever if I have to.
She walked for what felt like hours before she took a short break, digging through her pack for a bottle of water and taking small sips. It was freezing cold against her mouth, but she couldn’t let herself get dehydrated. She knew that drinking enough water was important when you were out in the cold for a long time.
Emily stayed asleep, thank God. Probably the only thing that would make this worse was if she were screaming, wanting to nurse or get down and walk. Leah tugged Emily’s hat further down to protect more of her little head, capped her water bottle and stood up, preparing to keep walking.
The wind was the worst. It stole through any gaps in her coat and scarf and whisked heat away, and it went through her pants like they weren’t even there. The longer she walked, the more sensation it stole away, until she was numb all over.
Leah had lived in Montana her whole life and was used to harsh winters, but she’d never had to walk like this, without any knowledge of when she’d be able to stop.
The roads were winding and steep, also, and more than once Leah slipped, and had to catch herself with her hands on the snowy ground. Every time it happened, her heart leapt into her mouth at the possibility that she might not be fast enough, and fall onto her baby.
So far, so good, she told herself as she pushed up to her feet for the umpteenth time. Still upright, still walking, and Emily’s still okay. That’s all that I need.
But there was still no sign of any people.
The cold was sneaking into her bones. She kept stopping to concentrate on the feeling of Emily’s little body against her chest, making sure that her breaths were steady and even.
Leah knew she was getting dangerously tired. Starting to walk again after stopping to check on Emily or drink more water was harder and harder. More and more, Leah just wanted to sit down by the side of the road and rest. She started looking longingly at the drifts of snow by the side of the road. They seemed like soft pillows, like she could just lie down in one and sleep...
If you do that, you’ll die, she reminded herself fiercely. You need to stay alive and keep Emily safe!
Her world narrowed to the sight of her boots and the feeling of tiny baby breaths against her chest. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. One foot...
Leah blinked. She wasn’t looking at her feet anymore; she was looking at her hands.
It took her a few minutes to figure out that that was because she was on her hands and knees in the snow. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet again and started forward.
This time, she tried counting her steps. One, two, three... But she lost track quickly. After that, there was a little while where everything was sort of gray, and when she came back to herself, she was in the snow again.
Get up, she told herself. Get up, get up!
Leah forced her leaden limbs to move, and gathered herself to stand.
She couldn’t. She just couldn’t make her legs work well enough to stand up.
Then, all of a sudden, there was motion in the corner of her eye. She looked up.
A leopard appeared out of the falling snow.
It seemed to emerge fully-formed from the snowfall, like it had just been part of the storm and materialized out of it in front of her. Its paws made no noise at all as it padded toward her, its pale gray eyes fixed on hers. Its fur was white and gray, with dark leopard spots dappling it, so that it blended seamlessly with the snowy trees around her.
It stopped in front of her, those endless eyes still fixed on hers.
“Hello,” Leah said. Her voice was almost noiseless to her ears.
The leopard moved closer, until she could feel its warm breath on her numb face. She reached out a shaking hand, and it stayed still as her gloved fingers carded through its fur.
“Please,” she said quietly. Her vision was starting to cloud over again. “Please, will you save my baby?”
The leopard’s eyes seemed to widen. Soon they were all she could see, and then the gray eclipsed everything else.
***