“Mick flew ahead up the slope. Amy retrieved the can of milk and did her best to hurry after him, but as soon as she was clear of trees she felt again the strength of the wind and the sharp bite of the snow it carried with it and she had to go slowly.”
“What she wished most to be, much more than the rest,
Was a cabin she’d seen on her trips through the west.
A little log shack half-covered with vines
Perched on a slope in a forest of pines.”