Kira Bellamy had six months to find her mother before the cold in her own hands got worse. She sat on the floor of the frozen cottage, sorting through the drawer her mother left behind. Frost crept across the window from the inside. It always did when Kira felt this much. She wanted one thing: to find her mother, thaw whatever had gone hard in her, and bring her home. But her mother had vanished without a word, and Kira had nothing. No note. No address. Nowhere to start. She dumped the drawer onto the floor. Buttons. A dead pen. An old folded map, soft at the corners from years of handling. Kira almost tossed it aside. Then she saw the ink. The map showed a city she didn't know. Across it, her mother had drawn a trail in faded red pen, winding from one marked spot to another. A circle sat at the end. Beside the circle, in her mother's small handwriting, two words: come find me. Kira's breath caught. The frost on the window cracked and spread. The front door opened. Cold air rolled in, and Ryan stamped snow off his boots. He'd known her mother longer than anyone in Alpenglow. He'd sat at her table a hundred times. Now he stood in the doorway, hands jammed in his hoodie pocket, looking at Kira the careful way people look at someone they used to love. "The lights were flickering all down the road," he said. "I figured that was you." Kira held up the map. "She left this. There's a trail. She wanted me to follow it." Ryan crossed the room and took the map. His jaw tightened as he read the red ink. "Kira, this is halfway across the country. Your hands can barely hold a cup when you get upset. You want to chase her into the cold?" "I want her to come home." The windows groaned. A thin sheet of ice climbed the glass behind Ryan's head. He saw it and didn't flinch. He'd seen it before. "That trail's the only lead she left," he said quietly. "If you go, I'm not letting you go alone." Kira took the map back. She traced the red line with a frost-burned finger. The paper was warm where her mother's hand had pressed it, years ago, planning this. Her mother hadn't just left. She'd left a door open. "Then we leave tomorrow," Kira said. The cold in the room pulled back. The ice on the window began to melt, dripping down the glass. For the first time in months, Kira knew exactly where to go. She just didn't know what she'd have to become to get there.