The boundary between life and death in a Highland blizzard is as thin as a single layer of frost on stone.

Within the crumbling embrace of the ancient shieling, the howling of the gale began to take on a strange, melodic sweetness in Aneesha’s ears. The violent shivering that had racked her bones for hours gradually slowed, then ceased entirely. A heavy, deceptive warmth spread through her chest, whispering to her that the struggle was over, that she could simply rest her cheek against the lichen-crusted granite and let the drifting snow cover her like a shroud.