Take Her, Not Me, She Begged, but the Mountain Man Looked at the Snow and Took Them Both Home
“And if we want to leave sooner?”
“You can.”
He pointed toward the door.
“Mountain’s right there.”
Selene laughed unexpectedly.
Emma looked at her.
Selene covered her mouth.
“Sorry.”
Ethan’s mouth twitched.
Barely.
Then he picked up his coffee.
“Drink.”
Emma did.
It was terrible.
She nearly coughed.
Ethan looked offended.
“What?”
“This is coffee?”
“Yes.”
“It tastes burned.”
“It is burned.”
“Why?”
“Because I forgot it yesterday.”
Selene laughed again.
This time Ethan did smile.
Just enough to change his entire face.
Emma noticed.
She wished she had not.
Because trusting a man was dangerous.
Finding one attractive was worse.
And believing for even a moment that he might actually be kind was the most dangerous thing of all.
She wrapped both hands around the hot mug.
That night, Ethan slept on the floor beside the door.
Emma lay awake on his cot with Selene beside her.
She watched his broad silhouette in the fading firelight.
A knife lay within his reach.
So did his rifle.
But he had positioned himself between the women and the entrance.
Not between them and freedom.
Between them and danger.
Emma did not understand men like Ethan Mercer.
She had spent five years learning that generosity always arrived carrying a bill.
She intended to find his.
Instead, morning came.
And Ethan handed her a dead rabbit.
“You’re joking.”
“I don’t joke before breakfast.”
Emma stared at the rabbit on the table.
Its eyes were open.
“So close them.”
Ethan stood opposite her holding a narrow knife.
“I am not skinning that.”
“You told me you could work.”
“I can sew.”
“Rabbit doesn’t need a dress.”
“I can cook.”
“Not until the rabbit’s naked.”
Selene sat near the hearth trying not to smile.
Emma shot her a look.
“Don’t encourage him.”
Ethan placed the knife in Emma’s hand.
“Pinch the hide here.”
Emma grimaced.
“I hate this mountain.”
“Mountain doesn’t care.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s useful. Use it.”
He guided her through the first cut.
Emma made it badly.
The blade slipped.
A foul smell filled the room.
She gagged.
Ethan stepped back.
“You punctured the gut.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I did.”
“You could have warned me better.”
“You’re the one holding the knife.”
Emma glared at him.
Ethan nodded toward the snow outside.
“Wash the meat.”
She waited.
He waited.
“You’re not going to do it for me?”
“No.”
“I ruined it.”
“Not yet.”
“What if I can’t fix it?”
“Then you learn exactly what failure smells like.”
Selene burst out laughing.
Emma turned on her.
“You can skin tomorrow’s.”
Selene immediately stopped.
Emma carried the rabbit outside.
The cold bit through Ethan’s borrowed shirt.
She cleaned the carcass with snow as instructed.
When she returned, her hands were numb and red.
Ethan examined the meat.
“Good enough.”
Emma waited for criticism.
None came.
He handed her an onion.
“Chop it.”
That was how life at the cabin began.
Not with romance.
Not with gratitude.
Work.
Every morning, Ethan woke before dawn.
He checked traps.
Chopped wood.
Tended Pike.
When the storms allowed, he hunted.
Emma hauled water and wood.
She learned to skin rabbits without ruining them.
She repaired leather harnesses.
She melted snow.
She cleaned fish.
She learned that frozen sap could split a hatchet handle and that mice could chew through a flour sack in a single night.
Selene recovered faster.
She was better with quiet tasks.
Cooking.
Mending.
Drying herbs.
Keeping the small cabin ordered.
Within three weeks, the three of them had become something strange.
Not friends.
Not family.
A working machine.
Ethan brought food.
Emma made sure the fire never died.
Selene turned whatever they had into meals.
No one wasted anything.
Not flour.
Not string.
Not heat.
Not words.
Especially not Ethan.
He could pass an entire morning without speaking.
Emma found it maddening.
One evening, while he sharpened an ax, she finally asked, “Were you born this cheerful?”
“Yes.”
She waited.
“That’s the whole answer?”
“Yes.”
“Did your mother ever tell you conversations usually involve two people?”
“She did.”
“And?”
“She eventually gave up.”
Emma shook her head.
“You are impossible.”
Ethan tested the ax blade with his thumb.
“You talk enough for three people. Evens out.”
Selene snorted into her soup.
Emma pointed her spoon at her.
“You’re supposed to be loyal to me.”
“I almost froze to death. I’m reevaluating my priorities.”
It was the first evening they all laughed together.
Afterward, Emma lay awake longer than usual.
Not from fear.
That frightened her more than fear ever had.
Trust was entering quietly.
Through small things.
Ethan never took the warmest blanket.
He repaired Selene’s boots while pretending he was only fixing the soles because wet feet were “annoying.”
When Emma cut her palm badly on a fishhook, he cleaned it without scolding her.
When the chimney clogged during a storm, he climbed onto an icy roof in darkness because smoke had filled the cabin.
Then he came inside covered in soot and acted as though risking his neck had been ordinary maintenance.
Emma had known men who performed generosity like actors demanding applause.
Ethan seemed embarrassed when thanked.
So she stopped thanking him.
She started helping before he asked.
One December afternoon, she found him struggling alone with a fallen pine near the lean-to.
The tree had cracked beneath heavy snow.
Its trunk had landed across their woodpile.
Ethan had tied a rope around it.
Emma picked up the other end.
“No.”
She ignored him.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“You’re not strong enough.”
“I’m stronger than I was.”
“That isn’t saying much.”
She wrapped the rope around her waist.
“You saved my life.”
His jaw tightened.
“So?”
“So stop trying to do everything alone.”
For a moment, neither moved.
Snow drifted between them.
Ethan looked toward the cabin.
Selene stood at the window watching.
Finally he said, “Pull when I say.”
Together they shifted the trunk.
It took nearly an hour.
Emma fell twice.
Ethan swore once.
When the tree finally rolled clear, Emma dropped into the snow laughing.
Ethan stood over her breathing hard.
“What?”
“We did it.”
“Yes.”
“You could try looking happy.”
“I am.”
“That’s your happy face?”
“Yes.”
“It’s terrifying.”
He offered his hand.
Emma took it.
He pulled her up.
But neither released the other.
For one strange second, the mountain vanished.
Emma became aware of everything.
His hand.
His breath.
The gray in his eyes.
The scar near his temple.
The fact that he was looking at her not as a burden or responsibility, but as a woman.
Then Ethan let go.
“Cold.”
Emma cleared her throat.
“Yes.”
“We should go inside.”
“Yes.”
Neither moved.
Finally Selene opened the cabin door.
“If you two freeze while staring at each other, I’m not dragging anybody anywhere.”
Emma nearly threw a snowball at her.
Ethan actually laughed.
It was deep.
Short.
Real.
Emma carried that sound with her for days.
Then Selene got sick.
It began with a cough.
By evening she had a fever.
By midnight she was delirious.
Emma sat beside her, terror undoing months of hard-earned strength.
“Selene.”
Her sister did not answer.
“Selene, look at me.”
Nothing.
Ethan stood at the hearth brewing willow bark and herbs.
Emma turned on him.
“Do something.”
“I am.”
“It isn’t working.”
“It takes time.”
“We don’t have time!”
Ethan stopped.
Emma’s breath broke.
“I can’t lose her.”
He crossed the cabin.
Emma stood.
“I can’t.”
Ethan put both hands on her shoulders.
“Listen.”
She shook her head.
“Emma.”
“She’s all I have.”
“No.”
Emma stared at him.
His hands tightened.
“She is not all you have.”
The words entered somewhere beneath Emma’s ribs.
Ethan glanced toward Selene.
“She’s strong.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“And she’s survived you bossing her around for nineteen years. Fever doesn’t stand a chance.”
A broken laugh escaped Emma.
It turned into a sob.
She covered her mouth.
Ethan pulled her against him.
Emma froze.
He did too.
It was the first time he had ever embraced her.
His arms felt enormous around her.
Safe.
Not trapping.
Safe.
Emma pressed her forehead against his chest.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“What if she dies?”
“Then we grieve.”
His voice was quiet.
“But she hasn’t died.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“So until she does, we work.”
That was Ethan’s answer to everything.
Work.
So they worked.
For three days.
They cooled Selene’s skin.
Kept water in her.
Changed blankets.
Fed her broth.
Ethan slept only in short stretches.
On the fourth morning, Selene opened her eyes.
She looked at Emma.
Then at Ethan.
“Why do you both look terrible?”
Emma laughed and cried at the same time.
Ethan walked outside.
Emma followed him five minutes later.
He stood near the woodpile, staring toward the white peaks.
“You knew she’d survive?”
“No.”
Emma punched his arm.
He looked down.
“What was that?”
“For pretending.”
“I didn’t pretend.”
“You said she was strong.”
“She is.”
“You were terrified.”
Ethan looked away.
That was answer enough.
Emma stepped closer.
“You care about her.”
“Yes.”
She waited.
Ethan’s shoulders seemed to rise.
“And?”
He frowned.
“And what?”
“You care about me?”
His eyes returned to hers.
A gust of wind lifted loose strands of Emma’s hair.
Ethan said nothing.
She smiled faintly.
“For a man who likes silence, you sure use it at convenient times.”
He took one step toward her.
Emma’s breath stopped.
“If I say yes,” he said, “you’ll ask what kind of caring.”
“Probably.”
“And then?”
“Depends on your answer.”
Ethan looked toward the cabin.
Then back at Emma.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
For the first time since she had met him, he looked uncertain.
Emma understood immediately what he meant.
Not survival.
Not work.
This.
“You think I do?”
“You know how to talk.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Emma slipped her hand into his.
“You taught me to skin a rabbit.”
Ethan stared down at their hands.
She continued.
“I taught you onions don’t need to be burned.”
“They were browned.”
“They were black.”
“They tasted fine.”
“They tasted like a barn fire.”
His mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
Emma squeezed his hand.
“We’ll learn.”
Ethan’s eyes lifted to hers.
He bent slowly, giving her enough time to step away.
She didn’t.
Their first kiss lasted perhaps two seconds.
It was awkward.
Cold.
His beard scratched her face.
Emma immediately started laughing.
Ethan pulled back.
“What?”
“Your beard.”
He looked insulted.
“I told you it was ugly.”
“You said a lot of things.”
“Most were true.”
He kissed her again.
This time she did not laugh.
From inside the cabin came Selene’s weak voice.
“I can see you through the window.”
Emma broke away.
Ethan closed his eyes.
Selene continued.
“And I’m sick, not blind.”
Emma shouted, “Go back to bed!”
“I am in bed!”
Ethan pressed his forehead against Emma’s.
“She talks more than you.”
“No one talks more than me.”
“True.”
That night, for the first time since the storm, Emma believed winter might actually end.
She was wrong about the kind of danger waiting for spring.
The strangers came in March.
Ethan heard them first.
Two horses.
One dog.
He did not own a dog.
He was cleaning a trap at the table when his entire body went still.
Emma noticed.
“What?”
Ethan raised one finger.
Outside, a dog barked.
Selene looked toward the door.
Ethan stood.
He took his rifle down.
“Behind the hearth.”
Emma’s stomach tightened.
“Who is it?”
“Don’t know.”
The dog barked again.
Then a man shouted.
“Cabin!”
Emma froze.
She knew the voice.
Every part of her body remembered it before her mind did.
Caleb Voss.
The guide.
The man who had taken their payment.
The man who had promised to lead them across the pass.
The man who disappeared one night with food, money, and both spare horses.
The man who had left them to die.
Emma reached for the revolver Ethan had returned to her weeks earlier.
Ethan saw her face.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“The guide.”
Selene went pale.
Outside, Voss shouted again.
“Looking for shelter!”
Ethan moved beside the door.
“Keep moving.”
A pause.
“Mercer?”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
Voss laughed.
“Well, damn. Ethan Mercer.”
Emma looked at Ethan.
“You know him?”
“Seen him in Pine Hollow.”
Voss called, “Open up. My partner’s hurt.”
Ethan said nothing.
Voss’s voice hardened.
“We know you’re in there.”
Ethan answered.
“Still not opening the door.”
Another pause.
Then Voss said, “You got company?”
Emma felt ice move through her veins.
Ethan glanced at her.
Voss continued.
“Funny thing. Lost two women up here back in November.”
Selene began trembling.
Emma took her sister’s hand.
“Stay behind me.”
Outside came the metallic sound of a rifle being loaded.
Ethan’s voice changed.
It became quieter.
More dangerous.
“You put that rifle down, Voss.”
Voss laughed.
“Those women paid me.”
“You robbed them.”
“No.”
The word came easily.
“I abandoned a bad contract.”
Emma felt rage replace fear.
Bad contract.
As though her life were spoiled freight.
Voss called again.
“One of them had papers I need.”
Emma frowned.
Papers?
Selene whispered, “Father’s deed.”
Emma turned.
“What?”
“The blue envelope.”
“What blue envelope?”
“In my bag.”
Emma stared.
Selene’s voice shook.
“Father gave it to me before we left St. Louis. He said not to tell anybody.”
Voss must have heard something during the journey.
Emma’s father had owned a small piece of timberland outside Pine Hollow.
It was the only inheritance they had.
The reason they had traveled west.
Voss had not abandoned them simply because of the storm.
He had expected them to die.
Then he could take the deed.
Emma’s anger went cold.
Outside, Voss shouted, “Send the Hale women out and there’s no trouble.”
Ethan glanced back.
Emma saw the answer in his face before he spoke.
“No.”
Voss laughed.
“You don’t even know them.”
Ethan looked directly at Emma.
“Yes, I do.”
Silence.
Then a gunshot tore through the door.
Wood exploded inward.
Selene screamed.
Ethan fired through the wall.
Outside, a horse shrieked.
Another shot ripped through the cabin window.
Ethan dropped behind the table.
Emma pulled Selene low.
“Stay down!”
Smoke filled the room.
Voss yelled something to his partner.
Ethan looked at Emma.
“Two men. Maybe three.”
“What do we do?”
“Back window.”
“You?”
“I keep them here.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“Emma.”
“No.”
“Take Selene.”
“We’re not doing that again.”
“Doing what?”
“You choosing who gets left behind.”
He stared at her.
Emma cocked the revolver.
“You carried both of us up this mountain.”
She moved beside the table.
“I’m not walking down without you.”
Something shifted in Ethan’s expression.
Pride.
Fear.
Love.
Maybe all three.
He nodded once.
“Then listen carefully.”
They had one advantage.
The men outside believed they were trapped.
They did not know Emma had spent four months learning the mountain.
Behind the cabin, a narrow drainage cut through the granite.
Ethan used it to check traps after heavy storms.
Emma could climb it blindfolded.
Selene crawled through the rear window and disappeared into the rocks.
Emma followed.
Ethan remained inside.
Voss shouted.
“One last chance!”
Ethan answered, “Come get them.”
The front door shattered inward.
Gunfire exploded.
Emma moved along the drainage.
Her boots slipped on melting ice.
Selene stayed behind a boulder.
“Wait here.”
“Emma—”
“Wait.”
She circled above the cabin.
From the ridge she saw two men.
Voss stood near the doorway.
His partner crouched beside a dead horse.
Ethan fired from inside.
The second man ducked.
Voss shouted, “Burn him out!”
The partner reached for something near his saddle.
Oil.
Emma’s heart stopped.
If the cabin caught fire, Ethan would have nowhere to go.
She raised the revolver.
Her hands trembled.
She remembered Ethan teaching her.
Don’t fight the gun.
Breathe out.
Squeeze.
The second man stood holding a bottle.
Emma fired.
The bottle exploded from his hand.
He screamed and fell backward.
Voss spun.
He saw Emma on the ridge.
His face changed.
“You.”
Emma stepped into view.
“Me.”
Voss raised his rifle.
Ethan came through the cabin door.
“Voss!”
The guide turned instinctively.
Ethan tackled him.
They hit the mud hard.
The rifle flew.
Voss reached for a knife.
Ethan caught his wrist.
Emma ran downhill.
Voss slammed his forehead into Ethan’s face.
Ethan staggered.
Voss grabbed the knife.
Emma raised her revolver.
“Drop it!”
Voss turned.
Blood ran from his nose.
He smiled.
“You won’t.”
Emma held steady.
He moved the knife toward Ethan’s throat.
Emma fired.
The bullet struck the ground inches from Voss’s hand.
Mud sprayed his face.
He froze.
Emma cocked the revolver again.
“I missed on purpose.”
Voss stared at her.
Ethan rolled, drove his shoulder into the man, and knocked the knife away.
This time he pinned Voss face-first in the mud.
Selene came down the hill holding Ethan’s spare rifle.
She looked terrified.
But determined.
“What now?”
Emma stared at Voss.
Months earlier, she might have shot him.
Part of her wanted to.
The man had condemned them to death for land.
He had returned willing to kill again.
Voss looked up at her.
“You think Mercer’s some saint?”
Emma said nothing.
“He’ll get tired of you.”
Ethan’s face hardened.
Voss laughed.
“Men always do.”
Emma slowly lowered the revolver.
“You know what I learned this winter?”
Voss sneered.
Emma looked toward Ethan.
“Some men do.”
Then back at Voss.
“And some don’t.”
Ethan tied Voss’s hands.
They marched him to Pine Hollow three days later.
The town marshal arrested him on charges related to robbery, attempted murder, and several other disappearances along the mountain route.
Emma handed over her father’s deed herself.
Voss had been right about one thing.
The papers mattered.
The land contained valuable timber.
Enough to give Emma and Selene choices they had never possessed before.
That spring, those choices nearly separated them.
Selene wanted town.
Emma wanted the mountain.
And Ethan, believing love meant refusing to trap another person, decided for her.
He packed her bag.
Emma found it beside the cabin door.
“What’s this?”
Ethan avoided her eyes.
“Your things.”
“I recognize my own bag.”
“Trail’s clear.”
“So?”
“I’m taking you down tomorrow.”
Emma stared at him.
“Why?”
“Selene wants to stay in Pine Hollow.”
“I know.”
“She should.”
“I know.”
“You have land there.”
“I know.”
“You could sell part of it. Build something.”
Emma crossed her arms.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Ethan’s eyes flashed.
“No.”
“Then stop behaving like it.”
His jaw tightened.
“You almost died here.”
“I almost died before I got here.”
“This life is hard.”
“So?”
“It gets lonely.”
Emma took a step closer.
“For you?”
He looked away.
“For anybody.”
She understood then.
The mountain man who had dragged two women through a blizzard was afraid.
Not of winter.
Not of hunger.
Not of armed men.
Of being chosen and then abandoned.
Emma softened.
“You think I’m going to wake up one morning and regret you.”
Ethan did not answer.
“That’s it.”
“You deserve easier.”
“Who told you?”
“What?”
“Who told you I want easy?”
Ethan looked at her.
Emma opened the door.
Spring sunlight flooded the cabin.
Outside, Selene stood beside Pike, pretending very badly not to listen.
Emma turned back to Ethan.
“I spent years believing safety meant finding a place where nothing could hurt me.”
She shook her head.
“There isn’t one.”
Ethan remained silent.
“But this winter taught me something.”
She moved closer.
“Safety is knowing who will stand beside you when something does.”
His eyes lowered.
Emma touched his face.
“You did.”
“Emma—”
“You threw away your food.”
He almost smiled.
“It was bad elk.”
“It was not bad elk.”
“Tough.”
“You dragged us four miles uphill.”
“Pike did most of it.”
“The horse nearly died.”
“He complains.”
“You slept beside the door for four months.”
“Draft was better there.”
Emma laughed.
“You are the worst liar I have ever met.”
Ethan finally smiled.
She had seen it more often lately.
It still felt like watching sunrise after a long winter.
Emma glanced toward Selene.
Her sister’s eyes were wet.
“You want town,” Emma said.
Selene nodded.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I like dresses.”
Emma smiled.
“I noticed.”
“And bakeries.”
“Also noticed.”
“And men who bathe more than twice a month.”
Ethan frowned.
“I bathe.”
Selene looked at him.
Emma looked at him.
Ethan pointed toward the creek.
“It was frozen.”
The sisters laughed.
Selene wiped her eyes.
“I want a little house near town. Maybe work at the school. Maybe open a dress shop someday.”
“You’ll have it.”
Selene looked at Emma.
“But you don’t want that.”
Emma looked at the peaks.
Snow still capped the highest ridges.
Below them, spring grass moved in the wind.
The place that had nearly killed her had also rebuilt her.
“I want both.”
Ethan frowned.
Emma continued.
“We own timberland near Pine Hollow.”
“Yes.”
“It needs managing.”
“Yes.”
“The cabin needs fixing.”
Ethan nodded slowly.
“The roof leaks.”
“Terribly.”
“The barn is barely a barn.”
“Accurate.”
“And your coffee should be illegal.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Careful.”
Emma smiled.
“So we build something between.”
“Between what?”
“Town and this.”
She took his hand.
“A real road. A proper supply stop. Cabins for travelers. Warm food. Guides who don’t rob people.”
Selene’s eyes widened.
Emma could see the idea forming even as she spoke.
“A place halfway up the pass where nobody gets abandoned in a storm.”
Ethan looked toward the valley.
“You’d give up timber money for that?”
“No.”
Emma smiled.
“We sell some timber and use the rest.”
Ethan shook his head slowly.
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
Emma squeezed his fingers.
“You taught me not to be afraid of work.”
Three years later, Mercer House stood where the lower trail met the mountain road.
It was not grand.
But it was warm.
Six guest rooms.
A stable.
A kitchen with a stove large enough for three kettles.
A bell mounted outside that travelers could ring during storms.
Selene lived two miles away in Pine Hollow.
She married the town carpenter, opened a small dress shop, and visited every Sunday whether Emma invited her or not.
The mountain route became safer.
Ethan personally trained every guide who worked from Mercer House.
His first rule was simple.
Nobody gets left behind.
His second was even simpler.
If the weather turns, turn around.
One November evening, exactly three years after the storm that had brought Emma to his cabin, snow began falling over the Bitterroots.
Emma stood on the porch watching it cover the road.
Ethan came behind her carrying two mugs.
She took one.
She sipped.
Then frowned.
“This coffee is good.”
Ethan looked worried.
“Something must be wrong.”
Emma laughed.
He wrapped one arm around her waist.
Inside, the dining room glowed with lamplight.
A family traveling west sat near the fire.
Their children were asleep beneath quilts.
Their horses were warm.
Their clothes were drying.
Nobody was afraid of freezing before morning.
Emma rested her head against Ethan’s shoulder.
“You know,” she said, “I never properly answered your question.”
“What question?”
“The one you never asked.”
“That sounds like you.”
She smiled.
“The day you found us.”
Ethan watched the snow.
“I asked plenty.”
“No. You didn’t ask why I told you to take Selene instead of me.”
“I knew.”
Emma looked at him.
“How?”
“You loved her.”
“That simple?”
“Yes.”
She considered this.
“And why did you take both of us?”
Ethan drank his coffee.
For a while, she thought he would avoid the answer.
Then he said, “Because you were trying to die like it didn’t matter.”
Emma’s smile faded.
He continued.
“I knew that look.”
She turned fully toward him.
“I’d seen people decide everyone else’s life was worth more than theirs.”
His voice remained quiet.
“They get so used to surviving for somebody else, they forget they count too.”
Emma felt tears threaten.
Ethan brushed his thumb beneath one of her eyes before it could fall.
“So I figured somebody ought to disagree with you.”
Emma laughed through the tears.
“You threw away half your winter food to prove a point?”
“Apparently.”
“That was stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Reckless.”
“Yes.”
“Possibly the worst survival decision you ever made.”
Ethan looked toward the warm windows of Mercer House.
At the travelers.
At the stable.
At the road below.
Then at Emma.
“No.”
He bent and kissed her forehead.
“It was the best one.”
A bell rang from down the trail.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Someone was out in the storm.
Ethan immediately set down his mug.
Emma was already reaching for her coat.
He looked at her.
“Stay here.”
Emma gave him the same look she had given him three years earlier.
“Still trying that?”
Ethan sighed.
“No.”
He grabbed the lantern.
Emma took the rope.
Together they stepped into the snow.
Behind them, Mercer House glowed against the dark mountain like a promise.
The bell rang again.
Emma raised the lantern higher.
“Coming!” she shouted.
And somewhere below, in the blinding white, a frightened stranger shouted back.
This time, nobody had to beg to be chosen.
Nobody had to decide which life mattered more.
Because on Ethan and Emma Mercer’s mountain, there was one rule above all others.
They brought everyone home.
THE END.
