Alex doesn’t see a wolf on her walk. Or a dog, standing out on what must be the middle of the lake, frozen again after swallowing the plane and Capt. It’s nothing but her mind playing tricks on her after so long cooped up in the cabin.
She’s pretty sure of that. The odds of anything surviving outside of the shelter their cabin’s sturdy walls give are minimal, at best, after weeks of this snowstorm.
Even so she doesn’t want to get too far from home, not when her fancy, utterly impractical boots means that Maggie’s stuck indoors.
When she looks up again it’s vanished in the glare of snow, and Alex is alone with the sound of her breathing.
The ice cracks like a gunshot as it breaks. She ducks out of instinct, hand going to her hip. The movement is nothing more than ingrained habit. Everything, including the badge that is sure to impress whatever species of Canadian mega-fauna out and about today, is still in the box Harper handed them at the airport.
Actually, that’s not entirely true - everything’s probably been returned to her and Maggie’s next of kin by this point.
The water spray refreezes unevenly across the ice, leaving the surface buckled.
Alex turns back. It’s best not to take chances, not when they’ve already beaten the odds so many times. Besides, if she died Maggie would start getting seniority on her and even if she has been growing on her there’s no way she’s letting that happen.