Grady Hart: Blizzard at Pine Hollow (Episode 9)

The wind howled across the snow-swept plains, rattling trees and gnawing at exposed skin. Grady Hart adjusted the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, his hat pulled low against the biting cold. Crow pushed forward through the drifts, his hooves crunching in the snow. Behind him, Sam muttered something under his breath, his voice lost to the storm.

“Did you say somethin’?” Grady asked without looking back.

“I said,” Sam repeated, louder this time, “if it’s this bad for us, it’s gonna be hell for whoever’s stuck out here.”

“You’re an optimist,” Grady deadpanned, but his eyes scanned the horizon. The storm had swallowed the sun hours ago, leaving nothing but a bleak, gray haze.

Defiance, riding beside Sam on her big mare, Tempest, squinted through the swirling snow. “That a wagon up ahead?”

Grady narrowed his eyes, following her gaze. A dark shape loomed in the distance, barely visible through the storm. As they drew closer, the outlines of a number of wagons and a struggling fire came into view.