Lucas knew this trail better than most. Years as a Search and Rescue operative had made every bend, hollow, and ridge memorized in his mind. Even retired, he carried the instinct for danger like a second heartbeat. Bramble, retired alongside him, mirrored it perfectly.
They had been hiking for an hour, the cold biting through layers of thermal clothing. Lucas exhaled in rhythm with his steps, listening to the crunch of ice under boots, the low groan of frost-laden branches, the whisper of wind through skeletal trees.
Then Bramble stopped.
The leash jerked hard. Lucas almost stumbled. The dog’s gaze locked on a small patch of frost-covered leaves just off the trail. Lucas crouched, moving slowly. The frost didn’t cover chaos; it hid intention. Under the leaves, he found fabric, layered and deliberate.
A child.
A toddler, eyes half-closed, lips tinged blue. Movement—so faint Lucas had to stare for a heartbeat to believe it.
“Easy, easy,” he whispered, stripping his jacket and wrapping the child. Bramble pressed close, warmth and instinct radiating. Lucas spoke nonsense syllables, steadying both toddler and himself. Someone had placed this child here carefully, expecting no one to find them.
