A little girl discovered an officer collapsed in the snow, along with her K9 dog. What happened next? The wind howled through the trees as if the entire forest were alive and angry. The snow fell in thick swirls, erasing roads, tracks, and colors. Only white remained… and red.

Sara Collins could barely feel her body.

She was half-buried in the snow, face up, her uniform torn, her hands tied with a rough rope that cut into her wrists. Every breath came out as a small cloud, weaker and smaller each time. The cold bit into her skin, but the pain in her side reminded her she was still alive.

A few meters from her, a dark-furred German Shepherd tried to move. Rex. Her partner. Her other half in the K9 patrol.

He whined, a guttural sound that was almost immediately lost in the wind. There was blood freezing near his shoulder, where the bullet had grazed him when everything spiraled out of control.

What was supposed to be a simple arrest ended in an ambush.

The suspect had tricked them, leading them deep into the woods, far from the road, far from the lights. A gunshot, Sara’s scream, Rex’s desperate bark, the impact of her body hitting the ground. Then, darkness. And when she woke up, he was gone. Only the marks of his boots walking away and the shattered radio in the snow remained.

No one knew they were there. No one knew they were missing. No one would come.

—”Rex…” —she whispered, her voice a thread.

The dog, trembling, crawled toward her as best he could. He rested a paw on Sara’s forearm, as if trying to anchor her to the world, as if telling her “don’t go” was as simple as touching her.

The wind roared. The snow began to cover them again.

Sara’s eyelids weighed a ton. She thought of her father, of the stupid promise she made him the day she graduated from the academy: “I’ll always come home after my shift.” She thought of Rex, trained to find lost people… now turned into the one who needed to be found.

And just as the icy sleep began to drag her away, far, far away, a little girl opened a door.

In a small cabin surrounded by white, Emily frowned, looking through the frosted window.

The fireplace crackled softly. Her mom and older brother were arguing in the kitchen about firewood, about the storm, about whether Dad would manage to return before the road closed.

Emily squeezed her stuffed rabbit with crooked ears against her chest.

—”Mommy,”— she said, “I heard something.”

—”It’s the wind, honey,”— her mother replied without looking at her, agitated. “Don’t go near the window, okay?”

But it wasn’t the wind. Emily was sure. It had been a different sound, like a… bark? Very far away, very muffled.

She pressed her forehead against the glass again. She only saw giant flakes falling, blurry trees, gray sky.

And then, again. A muffled bark, short, almost like a whimper.

—”Mommy…” —she insisted.

This time her mother didn’t even answer. The house phone rang, and she hurried to answer it with a worried frown.

Emily swallowed. She wasn’t allowed to go out alone. They had told her a thousand times. But something about that sound pulled her, as if someone really needed her.

She looked at her rabbit.

—”Just a little bit,”— she whispered. “Just to see.”

She grabbed her small pink jacket, fastened it improperly, put on her boots that didn’t quite close, and, with the plush toy in her arms, opened the door. The cold hit her like an invisible wall.

The air was biting. Her cheeks burned instantly. Still, she took a step. Then another.

The snow crunched under her boots, swallowing her tracks almost immediately. The wind pulled at her hair, but the bark sounded again, a little clearer, more desperate.

—”Puppy?”— Emily shouted. “Where are you?”

Her voice was lost immediately, shredded by the blizzard.

The trees looked like sleeping giants, covered in white blankets. Everything was the same, everything was white, white, white. But she kept walking, guided only by the echo of that sound.

Far away, at the cabin, the phone hung up. Emily’s mother turned toward the living room, and her smile vanished instantly.

—”Emily?”— she called.

Silence.

The door was ajar, and a small pink jacket was missing from the coat rack.

A scream tore at her chest.

—”EMILY!”

Emily no longer felt the tip of her nose. Her fingers were stiff, even though her mittens covered them. Her eyelashes were full of flakes, but she didn’t blink so as not to miss anything.

She tripped over a root hidden under the snow and fell to her knees. The plush toy flew out of her arms. Emily half-stood, tears mixing with the cold.

—”Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,”— she told herself, just as she had heard her mom tell herself when things went wrong.

Then she saw it.

First, a dark spot in the middle of the white. Then, another beside it.

She approached slowly, afraid it was a monster, or a strange log, or… anything scary.

With each step, the shapes made sense.

It was a woman, lying face up, her skin very pale, her hair matted with snow. She wore strange blue clothes with shiny patches. On her chest, a metallic badge.

Beside her, a large dog, bigger than she was, with its tongue hanging out and its eyes half-closed. Its fur was covered in frost, and a thin line of dried blood was near its shoulder.

Emily dropped the rabbit in the snow and ran, sinking almost up to her waist.

—”Puppy!”— she whispered. “Are you okay?”

The dog barely moved its ear. It let out a whimper so low it was almost silent, but for her, it was enough. He was alive.

—”Don’t worry,”— her voice broke. “I’m here.”

She approached the woman. Her hands were shaking.

—”Ma’am…” —she shook her shoulder—. “Ma’am, wake up.”

The officer’s lips barely moved. Emily leaned closer, so close she almost touched her icy cheek.