The woman backed up at first and then looked around at what was now, without question, a blizzard. She clearly was struggling with the fear of getting in a car with a stranger versus that of freezing to death. Finally she shrugged and hobbled forward.

Mike took the weight of the wood, which was at least eighty pounds, and popped open the trunk, dropping the large bundle in it. The woman was short and the wood must have weighed very close to her body-weight. Once he was in the Mercedes again he unlocked the far door and turned up the heater.

The woman got in and nodded at him.

“Spasebo,” she said in a very small voice, sticking her mittened hands under her armpits and then removing one to point up the road. She had left on her scarf so Mike couldn’t get a look at her face, but the eyes over the scarf were just lovely, a blue so dark and yet bright that they seemed to glow.

Mike followed her gestures carefully, including the ones to slow down as they came to curves. She clearly knew the road well. Fortunately, it was more or less level and only curved back and forth mildly. Mike couldn’t get a look beyond about ten meters but it seemed as if this must be one of those wide valleys that were sometimes found in mountains. He’d heard somewhere that they were from glaciers, but he didn’t know more than that about them.

The woman was clearly trying to pick out landmarks and suddenly made slowing motions, then pointed to the left, down a steep bank. There was a narrow road there, but it was a sharp descent. Mike considered it for a moment, then lined up the Mercedes and skied down the hill more than drove, ending up in a slight fishtail at the bottom. He lined out again, though, and followed the woman’s directions through the snow to a house that was up another slight slope. He realized as he did that it was a good thing he’d happened on her; they’d driven nearly two kilometers and it was unlikely she would have made it home alive.