Matt had two hours of daylight to find shelter, or the cold would take his four children before he could lead them out of the frozen wasteland. He carried the youngest against his chest. Zam walked behind him, her breath fogging her glasses, her arms wrapped around the other three. The wind cut through his black tee shirt like it wasn't there. He was strong, but strength didn't warm a family. God, he prayed, show me a roof. Any roof. He saw the cabin through the snow. Its timber walls sagged. Half the windows were dark holes. Icicles hung like teeth from the broken roof. It looked wrong. But wrong and warm beat right and dead. "Matt," Zam said. She stopped walking. "I don't like it." "I don't either." He looked at the kids. Their lips were gray. "But they can't take another night out here." She pulled the children close and nodded once. She trusted him. That trust weighed more than the child in his arms. He kicked the door open. Inside, the air was still and cold. Frost coated the walls. A dead bush sat in one corner, black and twisted, with red growths that looked like eyes. Frozen blood hung from them in beads. Matt kept the kids away from it. Then he saw the fireplace. It was huge and black. Carved skulls ran across the top. Soot stained the stone. The thing looked like it belonged in a nightmare, not a home. But it had a grate, and a chimney, and that was all he needed. "Watch them," he told Zam. He went back out for wood. He broke branches off a dead tree and dragged them inside. His fingers had stopped feeling the cold, which scared him more than the cold itself. He stacked the wood in the black hearth. He struck his lighter. The flame caught. Fire climbed the wood. Heat pushed into the room. The children crept close, hands out. Zam's shoulders dropped an inch. Matt let out a breath he'd held all day. "Thank you, Lord," he whispered. Then he heard it. A dry scratching came from the wall behind the fireplace. Slow. Then faster. Something moved inside the cabin with them. Matt stood and put himself between the sound and his family. In the firelight, two red points glowed low in the dark corner. They did not blink. Frost crackled as the thing dragged itself forward on stiff legs. The kids were warm now. That was the goal, and he'd won it. But warmth had lit the room, and the light had shown him they were not alone.