Read Chapter 41: The Scarf's Return

The air hit her like a wall. Cold, sharp, glorious—the first true breath Élise had taken in what felt like hours. She clawed at the snow crust with her bare fingers, ignoring the burn, pushing upward until her shoulders broke free into blinding white daylight.

Behind her, Luc coughed, his voice ragged. "You made it."

She twisted around, grabbing his arm, hauling him up beside her. His face was pale beneath the grime, the gash on his forehead oozing dark blood that froze almost instantly in the wind. He blinked against the glare, swaying slightly.

"Don't you dare pass out on me now," she said, gripping his jaw, forcing him to meet her eyes.

He managed a weak grin. "Wouldn't dream of it."

The storm had broken. Above them, a vault of painful blue stretched over the white chaos of the avalanche field—a moonscape of shattered ice blocks and debris. The wind still bit, but it had lost its teeth. For the first time in two days, Élise could see.

She scanned the sky. Nothing. Just the endless white and the hollow whistle of mountain wind.

"No one's coming," Luc said, reading her face. "We need to signal."

Élise fumbled at her neck, her fingers numb and clumsy. The yellow scarf—the one thing she never left behind, the same garish strip of silk she'd worn on every shoot since her first mountain assignment. She pulled it free, the fabric crackling with frost, and handed it to Luc.

"You've got the stronger arm."

He didn't argue. He took the scarf, tied a knot in one end, and began swinging it in wide, slow arcs above his head. The yellow flashed against the white like a pulse. Élise dropped to her knees beside him, shouting in unison with him—not words, just raw sound, throwing their voices into the vast emptiness.

Minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. Luc's arm began to drop, his movements slowing.

"Keep going," she urged, standing to take over. But he shook her off, jaw set, and swung harder.

And then she heard it. A thrum, distant, like a bee trapped in a jar. She froze, cupping a hand to her ear. The thrum grew, deepening into a rhythmic pulse.

Helicopter.

Luc's arm froze mid-swing. His eyes found hers, wide with disbelief.

"It's coming," she breathed.

The machine crested the ridgeline, a dark speck against the blue, growing larger with every second. Its rotors kicked up a furious cloud of powder as it angled toward them, dropping lower, lower—

Élise grabbed Luc's arm and pulled him into a crouch, shielding her face from the spray. The helicopter hovered thirty feet above them, its skids slicing the air. A figure in an orange flight suit leaned out, arm raised in a tight circle—*hold position*.

Luc raised the scarf again, whipping it over his head with everything he had left. The helicopter began its descent. The downwash flattened the snow around them into a disc of hard-packed white. Élise felt the vibration through her boots, felt it right through to her hollow bones.

The skids touched. The pilot killed the throttle and the rotors wound down to a shuddering idle. A rescuer dropped from the open door, boots crunching into the snow, and ran toward them.

"Two survivors?" He shouted over the dying engine, eyes quick, professional.

"Two direct casualties further up," Élise shouted back, gesturing along the ridge line. "One with a head injury. A French national. And the rest of our party—there were six of us originally, three of us separated from the main group."

The rescuer grabbed her arm, steadying her as she swayed. "We'll get a team up to them. Come on. Let's get you onboard."

Luc stumbled as he rose. Élise caught him, looping his arm around her shoulders, half-carrying him toward the helicopter. The noise was deafening now, the wind from the blades whipping her hair across her face. She didn't care. Every step toward that open door felt like a year of her life returning.

They collapsed onto the hard metal floor. A medic immediately descended on Luc, pressing a bandage against his head, shining a light into his eyes. Luc flinched, muttering something inaudible, but his hand shot out blindly, searching.

Élise caught it. Held it.

"Easy," she said, squeezing. "I'm here."

The helicopter lifted. The valley dropped away beneath them, the avalanche field shrinking to a white smear, the crevasse that had nearly swallowed them invisible from this height. Élise pressed her forehead to the cold window, watching it all recede—the cathedral peaks, the killing slopes, the place she'd almost died.

Luc's fingers tightened around hers. When she looked at him, he was holding up the yellow scarf. It dangled from his other hand, wet, bedraggled, still faintly vivid against the metal floor.

"Trade you," he said, voice rough. "It worked. It got us out."

Before she could reply, he wrapped the scarf around his left wrist, cinching it tight, knotting it with clumsy fingers. Tied it like a promise.

Élise stared at the bright silk against his bruised skin. Something cracked open in her chest—not a break this time, but a door swinging wide.

"That's mine," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Luc looked at the scarf, then at her. "I know." He didn't say *I'm keeping it*. He didn't have to.

The helicopter banked, and the hospital landing pad appeared below—a white square with a red cross, lined with waiting figures in scrubs. Élise leaned back against the bulkhead, exhaustion finally crashing over her in a wave.

She was still holding his hand. She didn't let go.

The doors opened to a blast of heat and people moving fast—hands lifting her onto a stretcher, a mask over her face, voices in rapid French. She lost sight of Luc in the crush, but she felt the scarf wrap tighter around her own wrist, coarse and cold, before everything went soft at the edges.

Wait. That wasn't the scarf. That was his hand.

Luc's voice, distant, slurred: "Don't leave."

She tried to answer. Her lips moved without sound. But her fingers curled around his, and she held on as the lights above her rushed past, white and blinding, like the surface of the snow she'd just crawled out of.

Like the daylight she hadn't believed she'd see again.