They say global warming is coming. Hard to believe, especially watching the Jeep struggle through snowdrifts while the windshield gets plastered with flakes. All I can think about is how to avoid getting stuck in the middle of a forest where the population density is basically zero. Who’s gonna push the car out if we do?
“Kostya, you sure we’re going the right way?” Anton suddenly yells right in my ear as we bounce over another pothole.
“Yeah. We’ve still got signal here…”
“Still?!”
My voice chimes in unison with Lola’s. In this crew of tough guys, we’re the only two representing the fairer sex, though we couldn’t be more different. Lolita is one of those girls you can’t take your eyes off. Killer figure, angelic face, and the manners of a pampered cat. She works, by the way, as a croupier at “Split.” Next to her, I feel like a plain Jane, so naturally, we don’t exactly get along.
But that’s in normal life. Right now, we’re in survival mode, and the better half of humanity instantly bands together.
“Are you saying there’s no cell service at your ‘camp’?!” Lola exclaims. “What if something happens?”
“There is. If you climb a tall enough tree,” Kostya glances over his shoulder and laughs. Nothing fazes this guy. “No need to panic, folks. We’re almost there!”
His massive hand points somewhere into the dense trees, and I press my nose to the window. Can’t see a thing, just snow-covered trunks. The road is buried deep, and the poor SUV starts swaying like a camel in the desert. Before I can open my mouth to back Lola up, some unseen force jolts us. The car skids, then slams hard into something unexpected. Lola’s screams and the guys’ curses blend into one chaotic roar. Spots dance before my eyes, but thank God, everyone seems okay for now, no injuries.
While I rub my bruised elbow, Kostya is the first to climb out and assess the situation. For two minutes, he’s silent, and I notice something weird: on our big guy’s usually calm face, there’s a look of pure shock.
“I told you to watch the road!” Lolita shrieks, pulling on her jacket and jumping out of the open door into a snowbank. “What, did we hit a tree?”
“No… I don’t get it…” Kostya just stands there, rooted to the ground—or rather, to the packed snow.
One by one, the whole group spills out of the warm interior, and the wind hurls handfuls of snow into our faces. I look around and start to understand why our driver’s in a daze. The road ahead is clear—no fallen trees, no ditches, no obstacles at all. But judging by the marks on the bumper, we hit something hard. So, what the heck did we crash into? Our breath forms clouds in the freezing air, but oddly enough, I don’t feel the cold. Finally, someone in the group snaps out of it.
“Great. Now what? Maybe try starting it up again?”
I glance at Mark. Even now, he looks like a model straight out of a glossy magazine—fur-lined jacket unzipped at the chest, snow dusting his thick hair, standing casually with his hands in his pockets.
Kostya, muttering under his breath, leaves us out in the open and climbs back behind the wheel. I stand there, shoulders hunched, listening to the engine sputter and grind. Something’s definitely wrong, and the icy wind is creeping under my jacket. Lolita has already tucked herself under Mark’s arm, clinging like a barnacle while he lights a cigarette, silently watching the scene unfold. Yeah, that old saying, “Don’t be born beautiful…”—turns out it’s not so true after all.
Finally, Kostya slams the door with force.
“Alright,” he says, regaining his composure. “There’s an old tourist lodge around here somewhere, not far. Let’s split up and look for it.”
“What the hell kinda lodge?” Anton snaps, apparently coming out of his own trance. “Why do we need it?”
“I’ll explain. It’s three o’clock now. In an hour, it’ll start getting dark, and no one’s gonna find us out here. We’ll send a text, and tomorrow the guys from camp will come pull us out. Stick together so we don’t have to search for you too.”
Anton and I exchange a silent look. Our pretty pair clearly isn’t in the mood to go searching—Lola’s got that written all over her face—so it looks like we’ll be keeping Kostya company. The big guy veers left off the path, while Anton and I trudge in the opposite direction, not holding out much hope of spotting any signs of civilization.
“You should’ve brought your staff,” I can’t help but tease my buddy. He’s our noble “White Mage,” after all.
“For what?” he grumbles, staring at the ground.
“Come on, you could call on the birds and beasts for help, like Rodogon. Maybe they’d lead us to this damn lodge!”
“Yeah, right!”
Anton suddenly stops and looks around until he finds what he’s after. I watch, totally stunned, as he pulls his “staff” out of a snowdrift, draws a circle in the snow with it, and stands in the center. I guess our “mage” is really getting into character because he starts chanting without missing a beat, in what sounds like Elvish or some other made-up language. Then he raises the stick to the sky and shouts something loud.
I’m reminded once again that my friends are a little out there, to put it mildly. How Anton, with hobbies like this, manages to work as a programmer is beyond me. The guy’s still got a kid’s imagination running wild! I’m dying to say something snarky, but suddenly, a massive owl bursts from a branch right above my head, spreads its wings, and swoops past, nearly clipping my hood.
To say I’m freaked out would be an understatement! Mouth agape, I stare at Anton and realize he’s about to collapse into the snow himself.
“What the heck was that?”
My buddy just shrugs, and almost immediately, we hear a sharp whistle from behind us. That can only mean one thing—Kostya’s found his little cabin in the woods. Thank God we don’t have to trek deeper into the forest, but the whole way back to the car, I can’t shake the feeling that Anton actually summoned help. This coincidence feels just as weird as the crash on a flat, empty road.
As we slog back to the meeting point, raised voices reach my ears.
“It’s not a five-star hotel, but we can crash here for the night,” Kostya announces calmly, responding to an irate Lolita. “I can even give up my sleeping bag for you.”
She snorts—her face clearly showing where he can shove that sleeping bag—and shoots an angry glare at Mark. Great, another argument’s brewing. Just what we need! Luckily, Kostya’s deep voice cuts in, barking orders to start moving to the new “location.”
“Enough standing around. It’ll be dark soon! Let’s grab our stuff and march in a line!”
The trunk is packed to the brim, and there’s even a case of champagne sitting pretty in the back seat. No one planned on hauling all this on foot, but we’ve got no choice, and I’m handed a manageable load. Tucking a bag of groceries under my arm, I adjust my backpack and try to follow in Kostya’s footsteps—literally. Easier said than done, though. Our leader’s got size-thirteen boots and strides like a yeti. Over a few beers once, he mentioned that everyone in his family is built like this—even his grandma, who’s over six feet tall and works as a security guard at some high-security factory. Girls apparently cry their eyes out over these “rugged Nordics,” but Kostya’s more into beer, rock concerts, and LARPing. He’s the one who got us all together for this...
Following our guide, the whole crew trudges through the snowdrifts. My backpack’s already weighing down my shoulder, but I don’t want to stop—through the trees, I can finally see a few cabins. From a distance, they look decent enough, even with something like a covered awning and a grill by each one. I’m already looking forward to the nicer part of this hike when I suddenly bump into Anton’s back.
“Anton, don’t just stop…” I snap irritably, but I don’t get to finish my rant. Over his shoulder, I spot another joker—but this one’s not from our group.
“Hey, this is private property…” a pleasant male voice reaches me, and I crane my neck to see more.
Great. Looks like we might be sleeping under a tree after all...