Snowed Over [Short Story]

It had been all over the news now, plaguing nearly every TV channel in the area. A young hiker has gone missing. A tragedy, truly. Perhaps it was common sense not to explore the Alaskan forests at the beginning of winter, when the air began to freeze and the ground began to frost over with thick snow. Perhaps it was stupidity to ignore the snowstorm warnings that had been echoed by nearly every news outlet for the past week now. But now, sat upon his trusty new steed, Ciarán O’Neill could barely find himself to feel any empathy for the idiot who managed to get lost in the woods. His teeth chattered violently, his hands turned into icicles beneath his thick wool gloves as he muttered quiet curses beneath his breath. But Deigh, beneath him, hadn’t flinched at the cold. In fact, she hadn’t even reacted to it. The mare moved steadily through the snow, her steel grey coat a stark contrast to their surroundings. Tall, towering green pines surrounded them, spanning for what seemed like forever down the walking trail. A beautifully haunting landscape, in the dead of winter, one that had almost been worth getting lost for. Being a mounted search and rescue horse had its perks, of course. It had been far more enjoyable than her last job, that’s for sure. If there was anything that Deigh loved, it was exploring new landscapes. Her bravery, of course, had helped greatly. But with perks had come certain… problems. And the greatest one had been the human inability to stay warm. She could feel her rider slowly surrendering to the cold, his cues no longer as sharp and clear. They were minimal now, the very bare bones to remind her of their duty. A tiny pull of the rein to the right, a small nudge of the leg to the left. A hand resting on the brown saddle horn to keep himself balanced in his seat. So the mare had taken it upon herself to lead the way, her grey ears twitching every few strides as she stepped over a particularly large tree root, stepping into a momentary sure-footed trot as they travelled off the forest trail, venturing deeper.

Ciarán’s loud sniffling had forced Deigh’s ear to twitch. “S’ too damn cold for this…” muttered the rider, adjusting the black balaclava on his face to wipe his nose, using the fabric end of his jacket sleeve as his green eyes blinked slowly, keeping the snowflake out of his eyes. The wind bit at his cheeks, the fabric not nearly doing as much for him as he would have hoped. Beneath him Deigh could only snort. Her long tail swished once, the thick, wavy hair kindly braided by her rider. Something that had been greatly appreciated, given the poor weather. The last thing either of them needed was to stand in the crossties back at home, fighting the snowballs that would always seem to matt after a good search. Although Deigh would gladly stand in the crossties for hours if it meant getting a good groom in, the last thing she wanted to do now was stand. Her legs had begun to heat up, the hours of searching slowly catching up to the horse. But she persisted, as did her rider. Her ears stayed pricked, her brown eyes focused, even as her annoying rider’s voice grated at her equine ears. “We’ll turn back soon, I promise, sweetheart—“ he spoke through chattering teeth, a hand reaching down to pat her plumaged neck in an encouraging motion. Deigh snorted. If horses could roll eyes, Deigh would have done so. That’s what the man said an hour ago, when the snow was still bearable. Now, with an upcoming snowstorm, they had only gone deeper into the forest. At least he had been kind to her. Deigh had learned a few things about her new rider. First, he had been a shy individual. A ridiculously shy individual. He never smiled, at least not around other humans, and even when he did, it always escaped paired with a nervous laugh. Second, he had been determined. He took his job seriously, though she hadn’t been complaining. They matched each other in that sense. Both disgustingly stubborn and adamant. And third, he loved talking to himself. Deigh wasn’t particularly sure why that was, but if she had to guess, it probably stemmed from his terrible social skills, which had been notorious for being everything but stellar..

Her dark legs continued to move through the snow, quiet grunts escaping her belly as she lifted her legs higher, putting in more effort to walk through the dense white blanket that seemed to stretch on and on forever. Her whiskers flicked for a split second, finally catching a smell other than frozen pines and ice. Her rider, however, seemed to be too busy rambling to notice her ears pricking. “You know, you were always too fancy for a search horse...” he muttered thoughtfully, adjusting his hat with a grunt, barely noticing as Deigh’s dark legs redirected them elsewhere. “I’ve always wondered what the hell you did to end up here anyway…” The horse had been entirely focused on something else, picking up a trot. Perhaps it was the cold, but the change of gait had completely slipped Ciarán’s mind. How and why Ciarán O’Neill, the rookie of the search crew, managed to get Deigh as his partner was still a mystery to everybody, seeing as he barely seemed to recognize how lucky he truly had been to get such a saintly mare. Her jaw tightened around the metal bit, playing with the roller to keep herself occupied through his little manic ‘episode’. The distant howl of wolves hadn’t made the situation feel any lighter. The Loshenka’s hooves carried her deeper through the snow, her nose still following that warm, not-quite-wild smell that stood out like a sore thumb amongst the musk of the pines and mildew beneath the snow. The quicker her step, the stronger the smell. The mare had been positive now. It wasn’t until Ciarán’s sudden shift in the saddle that she realized her job had been done. “Holy shit—" he breathed, bumping her sides with the edge of his heel, but Deigh was already moving.

There, in the snow, lay a girl. Her lips had been a pale shade of blue, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she sat on the snow-covered ground. Yet there, in the snow, small puffs of warm breath still escaped her. She had been alright. The mare broke into a canter, bringing them closer, stopping at a dead halt as Ciarán dismounted mid-step, a sense of urgency in his movements. But even with the sudden gravity of the situation, a pat had been delivered to her neck. Although not much, she knew what it had meant. His own quiet way of telling her that she did well. And to be honest? That had been all Deigh truly needed. The carrots and the love would come later. The horse blinked, tail swishing as she lowered her soft muzzle towards the girl, her grey and pink nose nudging the girl once. She watched as her frost-covered eyelashes fluttered open to reveal a pair of hazel eyes, her own brown blinking once slowly as Ciarán’s fumbling of a walkie-talkie filled the air. As a loud crackling filled the silence, the lost hiker raised a shaking hand with a weak whimper, seeking comfort from the giant animal as she stroked her badger face marking. She felt the cold of her hand slowly travel down to her muzzle, enveloped in the same smell she had been tracking a moment ago. A sharp, warm breath escaped Deigh’s nostrils, and for a moment, even through the whistling wind of the Alaskan forest, her message had been clear.

We’ve got you now.

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