Snowbound

The fire crackled, sending flickering shadows across the cabin’s wooden walls. Anna tightened the woolen blanket around her shoulders, listening to the wind howl outside like a ghost in mourning. It had been snowing for hours—thick, heavy flakes that turned the forest into a white, featureless wasteland. She hadn’t expected the storm to hit so hard when she came up here for a solitary weekend.

Now she was stuck.

Her phone’s battery had died that morning, leaving her with no connection to the outside world. Not that it would’ve helped much—there wasn’t a signal for miles around. No one knew exactly where she was, except maybe the old man at the general store who’d rented her the cabin. “Storm’s comin’,” he’d said, his voice gruff. “You sure you wanna be up here alone?” She had shrugged off his warning, eager for a break from the noise of the city.

Now, with the snow piling higher by the hour and night settling in, she wondered if she’d made a mistake.

She glanced at the single lantern glowing faintly in the center of the room. Her supplies were limited—just enough firewood to last the night, a few cans of food, and a half-empty bottle of water. Beyond that, she had her wits and her will. The cold crept in despite the fire, and Anna rubbed her hands together, trying to keep warm. She thought about her friends back home, laughing over drinks, warm in their cozy apartments. Would they notice her absence soon? Would anyone come looking?

A sudden noise startled her—a soft thud against the door. Anna’s heart skipped a beat. She stood slowly, every creak of the wooden floor sounding louder in the quiet. She reached for the iron poker by the fireplace and approached the door, breath misting in the cold air.

Another thud. Louder this time.

She hesitated, fear and curiosity warring within her. Taking a deep breath, she unlatched the door and pulled it open a crack.

A gust of icy wind whipped inside, making her shiver. And there, on the snow-covered porch, sat a scruffy dog, its fur matted with frost, eyes wide and pleading. Anna exhaled a shaky laugh, tension melting away as she swung the door open wider. The dog padded inside, immediately curling up near the fire.

“Looks like we’re both stuck here,” she whispered, stroking its head. The dog wagged its tail weakly, grateful for the warmth.

For the first time all day, Anna didn’t feel entirely alone. The storm might rage on outside, but inside the little cabin, there was life, hope, and a spark of warmth in the growing dark.