Raven sipped hot cocoa, staring at the blizzard outside her window. It was frenetic, icy, and freezing, with the wild wind blowing its worst. She curled into a recliner and watched it piling up outside. She loved winters in West Virginia, with its storms which brought the state to a standstill.

She had a list of places in mind that she wanted to shoot, a covered bridge over partially frozen rapids, the mountain rising behind her home, with critters peeking out from hollowed out spaces, with their eyes shining from safe caves, and the dense woods, just beyond the hiking trails, where few were brave enough to tread. Raven was unafraid. She knew these places like the back of her hand.

The woods were magical at night, blanketed in snow, atop pine needles, the scent of which assailed her senses. Ice coated the trees, backlit by moonlight, and she fisted the Nikon dangling from her neck, to take her first photographs.

Though she was freezing, she walked the distance to the covered bridge, and listened to the rapids flowing over rocks. She stood transfixed, with the moonlight sparking highlights in her long hair, and shooting the angles she could get to safely.

She looked back at the bridge, wanting to capture the icicles dangling from its side, but the path was treacherous at night. She knew it would be a shot which would grace the January cover of Mirage, provided she could capture it. She took the risk.

Raven made her way through thickets of weeds, working her way down to the river banks, and slipped on an icy patch, which sent her careening toward the rapids. She hit the water screaming and the temperature silenced her. She struggled to reach the edge, but the current was too strong.

Mason had watched her from a safe distance, shooting her in the moonlight, with snow swirling around her. She’d been blissfully unaware, candidly being her beautiful self, and roaming the spaces that she loved so dearly.

He admired how wild and free she was, until she tumbled down the mountainside, like the reckless soul she was. He threw his camera down and leapt from his truck.

Mason dove into the icy current and found her far down the river, half dead, stopped by tree limbs overhanging the river. He fished her out of the water, muttering, “Please be okay. Please be alive.”

Raven didn’t stir. He drove straight to the hospital. After receiving treatment, he learned that Raven had been treated for hypothermia, and would rest until they could warm her frozen body.

He went to her bedside and held her tiny hand, whispering, “I know you would be mad as hell with me for following you, but I’m not sorry.”

Raven lay lifeless, and he prayed over her silently. Please, God, I need her to be okay.

God was merciful. Her life was spared. She was discharged and he drove her home. Mason placed her on the bed, issuing, “I am staying until you’re stronger.”

Raven smiled softly, saying, “That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine, Mason.”

“No, you’re not,” he insisted. “Don’t fight me on this. I’m here until you don’t need me anymore.”

Raven closed her eyes, picturing the places she still wanted to shoot, and lied, “I promise, I’ll be good. I’ll stay in bed until Monday.”

“I’m glad you see it my way,” he challenged, “because I’m staying to make sure that you do, Raven.”

She turned over angrily to face the wall, and fell into a deep sleep. Mason settled in, and busied himself, building the fire in the wood stove, and then made dinner.

She woke to the scent of lasagna wafting down the hall, into her room, and Mason walked a tray to her. She was grateful for the attention, knowing he’d gone to a lot of work to prepare this meal, and she thanked him, feeling guilty for the anger she’d directed at him earlier.

She shoveled forkfuls into her mouth, devouring the meal, and he laughed out loud at the picture she presented. “You remind me of a little girl tasting cotton candy for the first time.” Raven blushed, confessing, “It’s the best lasagna I’ve ever had.” He was happy to see her eat, knowing she needed the strength.