He lived twenty miles from his closest neighbors, there were no roads, and the nearby river was packed with snow and ice this time of year. That meant she’d traveled overland on foot. How she’d survived at all puzzled him. There was a time when puzzles had meant everything to him. Ryan felt the familiar itch between his shoulder blades. The itch that told him he couldn’t rest until he knew how she’d come to be here. He stood staring down at her for a long time before he approached. She could already be dead. She wore boots with no socks and clothes so thin there were places they were transparent. It had been four years since he’d seen another person. He’d packed in ten years of supplies when he’d sold everything he owned and walked away from what was left of his life. Fresh goods were air-dropped in a meadow not far from his cabin and charged to his credit card without the annoying chatter other customers might require. Solitude was a choice he’d made. Having it disturbed was…unexpected.
