This story was contributed by ErichW 

Noah Slivers stood on the porch surrounded by a seemingly endless fresh sheet of snow, blanketing a thicket of trees, and warmed by the sun's rays. He looked to the skies. The clouds swirled in from the south, dark and angry.

The storm will be here before long, he thought.

The burly man kicked the wall of his cottage; the powder stuck to his boots and furred-covered shins salted off. She won't have it, he thought, looking down at his feet then to the doorknob. To hell with it...

The door to the cabin squeaked open and a white reflective glow poured around the man, illuminating a small room. Noah stood in the doorway grizzly-like while the smell of apples and cinnamon tickled his nostrils.

"Don't you take another step, Noah. You know better than to come into the house soggy as a dog."

"But Meredith," he sighed, tugging on his flaming-red beard frosted white. It flaked. "A storms a comin." He slid off his coon-pelted hat, "I'd like a quick bite and to warm these bones before headin' into town."

"I'll fill a mug and you can drink it outside." She said. Her skin white as snow and eyes glimmering like light off ice. "That or take off your boots and sit by the fire—your choice—but I don't want to hear your griping. You know the rules of this household."

Noah felt the wind bite at his neck and he shivered.

"Let him in, Ma," Rhan said, wiping his lips on the sleeve of his undergarment. He didn't have the coal-black strands of his mother, but instead the fiery thick red hair of his father, drawn up in a tangled mess. "Pap is bringing the chill inside just standing there." He took the bowl to his lips and slurped.

Noah's voice boomed in laughter. "And what of my health?"

"I didn't tell Ma to shut the door on ya, now did I." Even at eleven he was as sharp as a skinning knife. "But if you don't make a decision, I'll lock you out myself." He smiled and golden liquid seep through his teeth.

"I'll stay out 'ere—"

"Come in," Meredith said, "And shut the door." She poured stew from a ladle into a bowl. "I won't have you gone hungry into town. What kind of wife would that make me?"

Noah closed the door and hung his coons hat on a hook. "One without no beat in her heart."

"That's not too far from the truth," she smiled warmly and set the bowl on the table.

Noah pulled off his furred mitts and sat down. He looked to the boy, placed a hand on his head and gave him a rub.

"Hey, what was that for?" The boy tried to swat the heavy arm away with no such luck.

His father bellowed with laughter, "looks much better now." He recoiled his arm.

Rhan smirked, "who asked you," and took another sip from his bowl.

"What do you think, love?"

Meredith placed her arms around the large man's shoulders, squeezing around his neck. She leaned a chin close to where his ear used to be, now hidden behind braids of red strands. "I think he needs a haircut."

"Ah, Ma," the boy plopped his spoon into his bowl. "I'd freeze by spring. You know no man can survive winter without a head of hair. Ain't that right, Pa?"

Noah eyes looked to Rhan's braids that draped past his shoulders, long as his beard. He shook his head, "the boys got a point."

"The boy does have a point," Meredith said, "he's no man, not yet, but one day. Till then we'll need to chop that mop."

Rhan crossed his arms and shook. "Tell her, Pa. I shot and skinned me a rabbit just yesterday. No boy can do that."

"True as winter," He laughed, "made a great stew too."

"Whose side are you on anyway?" Meredith leaned further, looking into Noah's eyes, smelling of cinnamon and apples. Her hair draped to one side, long as a horses tail while her face twinkled with the snow outside. Noah loved that look, that sweet smile, and those half-mooned dimples. "It'd best be mine."

"I side with my boy," he swept her over his shoulder and her winter gown draped like a curtain.

"Noah!" she squealed. The boy chuckled. "Put me down this instant."

"No boy of mine is getting butchered."

"Damn, right!" Rhan laughed, leaping to his feet.

Noah carried her towards the door, swinging it open with a mighty pull. "And no wife of mine will tell me to remove my boots."

The wind burst into the cabin, fighting against the flames while the large man carried her out onto the porch. She bounced like a bag of potatoes on his shoulder.

"Noah," she screamed, "put me down!"

"If you say so," He turned to the boy and winked.

She shook her head, "you won't if you know what's good for ya—" she flew from his shoulder and was swallowed by powder.

Rhan ran to his father's side, his arms wrapping around his hips. They squealed with laughter.

Meredith's head resurfaced, "you think that was funny, do ya?"

Noah chuckled and nodded his head, "Just a wee bit—" his head whipped back as snow smacked his face. He chuckled, pulling snow chunks from his beard, and spat.

"She got you—" Smack! Rhan went quiet, face icy white. He giggled, wiping the snow with his sleeve. "—what was that for?"

Meredith laughed, "serves you both right.",

Rhan's face wrinkled with determination. "Let's get her!"

Meredith's eyes widened holding her hands full of snowballs. "wait just a minute, you two." Her voice was lost as she screamed. Snowballs flew through the sky in an all out war. After a minute they stood like three snowmen. Each one knee high in the powder, laughing and giggling.

Meredith caught her breath as she looked up at Lasso peak. The sky was black and angry, consuming the mountain's head.

"You best ride soon," she told her husband, "the storm will be here in a few hours."

Noah looked to the peak while the boy followed his gaze. Grayish-blackish clouds swirled like mud in the snow, expanding across the grayed horizon.

"Best we get inside and finish supper."

They spent ten minutes slurping down leftover rabbit stew while Noah's flesh warmed by the fire. Noah then kneeled and gave his boy a hug. "You take care of your mother while I'm gone, ya hear me?"

Rhan smiled and gave him a quick squeeze, "will do, Pa."

Noah patted him on the head making his hair worse. "That's a good, Lad." He stood to his feet and embraced his wife, drawing his lips close to hers. "One for the road?"

Meredith shook her head, "not with that breath," she pushed him back, "you hurry on back and I'll reconsider—"

Noah pulled her in close and brought their lips together, flesh warm as they touched. They closed their eyes and for a moment all he could smell was apples and cinnamon.

She pushed him away and swung a fist into his chest. "Jerk," she laughed, her pale skin rosy red from his beard. "I don't know what's come over you, but you are going to be in big trouble when you get home."

"I like trouble," He winked.

After one last squeeze from them both, Noah hitched the horses to the wagon and headed off towards town. Meredith had written a list for enough supplies to last all winter, he thought, looking them over twice. Doesn't she realize there's a storm coming? he chuckled, tucking the parchment into his bear pelted coat.

Their cottage sat three miles from the town of Holdfast, where the Wildwhite river drew down the mountainside; the water so cold it'd draw the life out of you in a few minutes. You had to be cautious of water that cold. The town lost many settlers to the river, and though frozen over, the river still raged beneath the ice.

"Good horses," Noah said, as they moved slowly down the hillside. The wagon jerked and squeaked, tugging through the snow that was already three feet deep in every direction. The path had enough traffic to keep the snow packed down, but the first winter's storm would make it impossible to reach town again for at least a month. Not by wagon no how. "Keep steady," he whistled.

A silhouette came around the next bend; a large figure on horseback. The traveler was covered in a hooded white pelt that draped down across their body like a poncho, extending down to their knees. A white pelted cape that hung on their back. And a white pelted scarf that covered all but their icy blue eyes.

"Howdy," Noah said, eyeing the traveler suspiciously. "You're not headed up the mountain, are you?"

The traveler pulled on the reins, "As a matter of fact, I am." The voice was high, sweet, and inviting. "Just bought property on the river."

Noah looked to the woman's rifle attached to her saddle. "Didn't know there was property to be had." He admitted. "Who sold?"

"Davis Tavon," she answered.

Noah chuckled, "he never could handle the cold." He peered back towards the mountain than back at her. "You best be safe out there...It'll be a nasty storm."

"Thank you kindly." The woman glanced up at the peak, "nothing I haven't handled before," she said, "and unlike Mr. Tavon, I can handle the cold."

Noah chuckled, "then we're glad to have ya here. Welcome to Holdfast." He nodded.

"Appreciate it. Wendell Moosaddle."

"Noah Slivers."

The woman looked at the man and her icy blue eyes grayed like the clouds around the peak. "Nice to meet you, Noah. You take care now."

"And you."

She whipped her reins and drew her horse into motion. Noah watched until her silhouette disappeared around a grove of trees, and then sat for a long moment staring at the snow. Eyes sunk with worry. Never thought the cold would get to that man... To sell at a time like this don't make a lick of sense.

After another twenty minutes he found himself in Hardhome: a town with only one road in and one road out, jammed together with log buildings. The wagon supply shop sat on the northern end of town while the saloon sat to the southern end. In the center rested the grocery and the bank in between the fur trader and the gun shop.

Noah made haste, headed first to the Grocery where he stocked up on vegetables, fruits, liquor, and meat. And then went into the Gun Shop that had enough guns and mounted animal heads to fill his whole house three times over.

Yorick stood behind the counter polishing the silver on a lever action rifle. He was a gangly man with half an ear and a clawed-scarred face: one who only bargained if he reaped all the benefits.

"Howdy, Yorick."

"It's been a while, Noah. How's the family?"

"Keeping warm. And yours?"

"Trying to stay in business," He chuckled.

Noah grabbed a box of 30-30 rounds off the counter. "That bad, eh?"

"What can I say...The cold's got 'em townsfolk hibernating like bears." He chuckled. "Nothin' we ain't used to, nor worth the worry."

Noah looked to the man who was dressed in a round-brimmed hat, a black vest, button shirt rolled to the elbows, and black trousers. Yorick eyeballed the box in his hand through somber eyes. Noah grabbed a second box.

"I'll take two."

"Sure you don't need another rifle?"

Noah smirked, "and why would I need that?"

The man raised an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders, mumbling. "Hell if I know. Just thought, there might be trouble brewing." He pointed to the ammunition. "That's why you're here, no?"

"Trouble?" Noah said with bite. "What trouble?"

The scarred man looked around his shop then leaned over the counter. "There was somebody askin' bout you—'bout your boy."

Noah eyes widened. He felt a surge of fear crawl throughout his body, scorching his insides like wildfire. "Who?" He said. "Who was askin?"

The man chuckled, "information's gonna cost ya—"

"I'll take the rifle. It takes 30-30?" Noah asked. Yorick nodded. "And two more boxes." Noah leaned over the counter, brows furrowed, eyes dark. "Now who was askin' bout my boy?"

"A woman. Just came into town wearing pelts white as fresh powder."

Noah clenched his fists. "And you didn't say nothin to the Sheriff?" He spoke through his teeth.

Yorick shrugged. "She was a paying customer...bought herself a rifle."

Noah shook his head. "Davis Tavon?"

"What about em?"

"Did he sell his property?"

"Sell," the man chuckled, wiping the silver on the rifle. "Davis Tavon was found in the river just yesterday, pale and departed."

"Departed?" Noah threw down a handful of coins, grabbed the rifle and ammunition and headed for the wagon.

He rode up the mountainside whipping his two horses into a gallop. The river raged beside him, snaking along the path, guiding him to his cottage. "They've found us," Noah said angrily. "After all this time, they found us." He whipped the reins harder and the horses moved like they'd caught fire to their back.

Noah arrived at the cottage eyeballing the door that was forced open. Splintered wood sprouted in all directions while a gloom rested inside his once peaceful home. He pulled the reins and the wagon squeaked to a halt; Noah leapt down, rifle in hand. He pushed the stock into his shoulder, raised the barrel and approached his cottage crouched, right eye down the barrel.

"Meredith?" He climbed the steps. "Rhan?" Noah ran and slammed against the cottage wall. Please, God, let them be safe. He swung the barrel around and cautiously stepped through the threshold between the outside and the building.

It was not how he left the place. The table was tipped. Soup everywhere. Coals smoldering in the fire. The smell of apples and cinnamon replaced by the stink of gunpowder and blood.

"No," Noah said, his eyes dropped to the floor. A body sprawled on the ground soaked in a crimson puddle. Noah walked over to the body and collapsed to his knees. He took the woman in his arms. "Meredith," he said softly. Her eyes shut, sleeping peacefully. "I'm so sorry." He wept into her chest, groaning with every breath until his face grew red with the dread in his heart. "I'll find him. I swear to you, I'll find him." He kissed her forehead and sat her head down gently against the floor.

Noah's eyes shifted towards the ground where three bullet heads sat stained red with her blood. He took one in between his fingers. Rhan tried to save her, he thought, twirling the bullet head. He brought it into a gleam of light soaking through the front window. "A 30-30," he whispered.

Noah leaned down and gave Meredith one last kiss on her snow-white forehead; her skin still strangely warm against his lips. "I love you," he said. He stood to his feet, turned, and headed for the stable.

Logan was the fastest mount Noah had; a strong mount who had the stamina and strength to climb the mountain even if the blizzard fell upon them in their pursuit. Noah saddled him up and took to the path leading further up the mountain, a path he knew all too well.

"Cave's Crossing," He said, looking at a map as his mount trampled forward. "That's where they're headed."

A brilliant plan, he knew. Kill him and his wife, take the boy, then head through the caves of Lasso peak before the storm fell over town. It'd be a month before the Sheriff would get word of the massacre and by that time Rhan and Wendell would be long gone. Through the mountain and in southern Texionya where the northern folks laws were unwelcome along with their Marshalls.

"Bastard," He grumbled.

The higher they climbed the thicker the snow blanketed the ground, leaving a trail of hooves towards the peak while the blacking clouds descend down the mountain, swallowing everything above like a ghastly deity consuming the earth.

There was a crunch beneath the horse's hoof; Logan shrieked, collapsing on the ground. Noah hit the snow, rolled, and sunk into powder. He climbed back to his feet, shaking the snow from his furred garments.

"Logan," he said, while the horse fought to free himself, leaping and kicking, neighing in pain. He ran to the horses side. Metal around his right leg while blood painted the frosty white canvas. Noah looked at the steel, frowning. "A bear trap?" He placed a hand on the horse, "Steady, boy," He said, grabbing the reins and easing him towards the ground.

Noah glanced back to where he came from then up at the mountain. The clouds would be upon him soon as a light snow salted the earth. There was no chance of saving the horse and his boy, he knew. The storm would be upon him soon, and the horse would either freeze or die from his wounds before he'd return.

Noah snatched the rifle from his saddle, staring at the horse who drew exhausted breaths, steaming at the nostrils and out the mouth. He drew the barrel to the horse's head. "Find peace in the prairie lands."

The gun echoed in the mountains and the beasts torment was over.

Noah glared up at the angry mountain, "another mile," he said, "another mile and I'll be at the caves." He cocked the rifle spitting the cartridge. "I won't give up..."

Noah trudged onward, his body waist deep, fighting for every foot. His muscles screamed as sweat collected beneath his garments. The snow holding him back like quicksand.

"I'm comin', Rhan—hang on—I'm comin'."

The entrance to the cave was a sight for sore eyes and thighs: a gaping breach in the cliff wall that extend twenty feet and was black as the sky overhead. The snow poured as gusts of wind pulled in every direction, pushing against Noah's body like an unseen hand. He lifted his mitt over his face, stomping towards the cave. A black-glint of determination in his eyes.

I won't turn back. His teeth chattered as frost bit at his cheeks. I will die on this mountain or find my boy.

The ground was solid on top of the stony edge leading to the cave face: Noah's eyes beamed open; at the breach a white pelted figure stood strapping a horse to a wagon hitch.

"Wendell!" He yelled, rifle at his side, standing wide legged and panting.

The pelted white figure turned and looked out into the frost, examining the man like a polar bear watching prey. She grabbed something from her wagon and stepped out into the storm; the wind tore at her cape, yanking wildly in every direction until the cape took westward with the wind, waving with the pelting flakes. She walked fifteen feet, a rifle down by her hip, moving towards her advisory then stopped thirty paces apart, mirroring his stance.

Noah felt the weight of his rifle pull on his arm. His jaw aching from the clench as he gazed up through his eyebrows. Around him, the wind howled as the ghastly sky circled above. He took a breath slowly through his nose and released a grayish cloud through his chapped lips.

I will die here or we'll go together...

Noah drew up his rifle, Wendell pulled her own. The man locked it to his shoulder, looked down the barrel and fired. The mountains echoed as a buzz of bullets zipped through the air, connecting. Noah gasped and stepped back as the woman dropped, consumed by powder. He grabbed his shoulder, blood oozing and warming his icy flesh.

"Rhan," He yelled, dropping to a knee, holding his weight on the rifle buried in the snow. Noah took a breath and got back to his feet, walking slowly towards the cave, "Rhan!" He yelled again, using the gun as a crutch.

He stopped, looming over the lifeless mound of white pelts. The snow in perimeter drank the red fluid. Noah raised the rifle and pulled the trigger three more times. Gore spewed and Wendell's body shook.

"Had to be certain," he spat, then proceeded towards the breach.

Upon entering the cave, Noah had left bloody footprints from where he'd been shot leading to the wagon covered in pelts. He pulled the pelts back, exposing a body resting hidden inside.

"Rhan?" He said, his voice soft with worry.

The boy turned, his eyes swollen red from tears. "Pap?" He said weakly. "Is that you?"

Noah's lip trembled as he leaned against the wagon. "Thank the Lord, Child."

Rhan sat up in the wagon hitch. "You're hurt." He saw the red-stained fur as his eyes grew wet. "Let me help you."

"No," Noah shook, "it may kill you."

"I must, father." The boy whispered placing his hand on Noah's chest. "Or you'll die...Trust me." He smiled weakly.

Noah felt his legs wobble and head spin. He nodded, "yes, my son."

Rhan closed his eyes and took a breath. Noah lifted his bearded chin and groaned as a warm energy passed through the boys hand into his wound; Noah's flesh began to squeeze, fusing as a pain tugged at his chest; a red bullet spun out of the wound and dropped into the boys hand. Noah's skin sparked fire and he groaned once more as the skin melted together.

Rhan lowered his hand and gasped, panting, fighting for breath. "I got it," He said, holding the bullet in his palm.

Noah rubbed his chest and nodded.

Water droplets streamed down the boy's cheeks, "I tried to save, Ma—it didn't work—it's my fault, Pa. It's was all my fault."

Noah shook his head and embraced the child in his arms, squeezing him close to heart. "It's not your fault...It'll never be your fault." He looked outside the cave to where his home lay within the storm. Where she laid. Noah swallowed sadly, "we cannot go back there—it's not safe—we can't let them find you."

"Where will we go?"

Noah turned towards the cave that was dark and full of paths leading to uncertainties. "We will find a new place," he said, "and together we'll make a new home."

Erich Whiteside is a Wattpad Star who enjoys writing fantasy adventures because that's where he is most days, living in fantasy inside his head. Read more from Erich here