Mick unzipped the tent carefully, battering at the snow so that it didn’t pile into the tent.
He heard Patty’s gasp behind him, but he had to concentrate. He didn’t know how deeply they were buried, or what he’d find at the surface. Packing the snow off to either side, he tunneled upward. He was past kneeling and up to a crouch before his hand finally broke through into clear air. Six feet of drift.
A wash of fresh, bitingly cold air blasted down at him mixed with a flurry of snow.
Mick looked up through the six-inch hole he’d punched and saw the blizzard ripping by above them. The wind had little to roar against on a flat surface of powdered snow, so it passed by relatively quietly…and very fast. It would be deafening as soon as they climbed out onto the surface of the snow. It was day
