Craig Sanders bent down and adjusted his skis. In front of him was a sign that read, Pinewood Forest Wilderness Trail. Ten years ago during Christmas break his Boy Scout troop trekked on cross county skis along its remote, meandering trail with enthusiasm and frolic. Things changed tragically when a friend of his, Jeff Holt, wandered off on his own halfway through the day just before an unexpected snowstorm. A search and rescue team never found him. They assumed a mountain lion had killed him and dragged him away, or he had gotten lost and froze to death.  This was the tenth year in a row Craig returned to this site to pay homage to his friend.   

    "Craig, let's get going," said Molly, his girlfriend of one year.

    He sighed. "I'm ready."

    "I can't understand why you haven't suggested cross county skiing before," said Molly, adjusting the straps on her backpack.
 
    "I'm looking forward to the exercise."

    "We'll see how you feel after a couple of miles."
   
    "I have no problem walking around the mall shopping all day. It's probably the same distance."

    "One things different."

    "What's that?"

    "You only spend energy here," said Craig.  They both chuckled.

    Craig may be laughing outwardly, showing his jovial side to Molly, but inside the pain of guilt cried out for Jeff Holt. His friend was a novice, never skiing before that tragic day. He knew Craig would still be alive today if he hadn't persuaded him to go on the cross county adventure.

    "This is a beautiful setting," said Molly.

    "I agree. Just stay on the marked trail…," He gazed toward the forest's dense evergreens. "…otherwise the forest will swallow you up."

    "If you're saying that to scare me…you did. I'm a city girl and depend on street signs to get me where I'm going." She reached into her jacket pocket.  "I better check my cell phone and make sure it's charged."

    "No need to do that. There's no reception out here. We're too far away from a satellite tower."

    About an hour later, they stopped and sat on an outcrop of rocks. Craig removed a bottle of water from his backpack. A rustling noise from behind him caused him to jump to his feet.

"What was that?" Molly grabbed onto his arm, staring into the woods.

    He squinted, trying to see what had made the noise. "It likely was just a rabbit or some other creature."

    "It's the other creature I'm worried about," she said nervously.
 
    "You mean like, Big Foot?" Craig grinned.

    "No. I know that's just a myth." She frowned. "Isn't it?"

    "Of course." He felt a sudden chill, as if someone or something was watching them. "Let's drink up," he said, looking around. Nothing stared back at him. "We'll get going after that."

    "Why do you look so concerned," said Molly.

    "I'm not," he said, "just anxious to get back on the trail."

***
    "I can't believe we've been skiing for two hours now," said Molly, looking at her watch. "It seems much less."

    "You can lose a sense of time out here. And direction."

    "You're not lost are you?" There was a slight hint of panic in her voice.

    "Of course not. Besides, I have a compass."

    "That's reassuring."

    The branches on the evergreens started to sway from a swirling cold breeze. It was difficult to determine its exact direction. A moment later, a heavy shower of snowflakes fell, making visibility less than a few feet. The once ray of sunlight streaking through the top of the trees disappeared, changing the mid-day light to early dusk.

    "It must be a snow squall," said Craig. "It probably won't last very long. They never do."

    "Hope so," said Molly crossing her arms against her chest. "The cold wind is going right through me."

    "I think it'll be a good time for us to head back to our car." His right foot sank into the snow about a foot and a half, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto his right side.

    "Are you okay?"

    "Yeah. Just my pride is hurt." He got up and reached into his jacket pocket. "Dang it!"

    "What's wrong?"

    "My compass is broke," he said looking down at a broken dial.

    "I thought you said you knew where we are."

    "I do." He told her a white lie. His compass and the previous ski marks in the snow was his method of finding his way back to the car. He knew if the snow continued to fall at the present rate, they'd be in deep trouble--lost!

    Twenty minutes had past and the driving snow didn't let up. Craig stopped and peered down at the last faint outline of a ski imprint in the snow.

    Molly grabbed onto his arm. "Why have we stopped?"
   
    He glanced around--the forest didn't have any distinct landmarks to guide him. All the pine trees looked the same. His field of vision was still only a few feet. "We're going to have to rely on our instinct to find our way back to the car."

    "Are you saying we're lost?"

    "Yes. I was hoping the snow wouldn't completely cover up our ski prints."

    Tears rolled down Molly's cheeks as she squeezed his arm. "I'm scared."

    "We'll find our way back. I won't let anything happen to you." He knew that they could wonder in circles all day.

    Ding! Ding! The faint sound of a bell pierced through the snow.

    "Do you hear that, Craig?"

    "I sure do. It's coming from that direction." He pointed toward their left.

    "What's a bell doing out here?"

    "Don't know. But I think we should head towards it."

    "I agree."

    After about thirty minutes of an accelerated pace, Craig and Molly's thigh and calf muscles ached and burned. The rhythmic ring sounded louder as they entered a clearing. The blizzard-like snow struck their face, stinging their eyes. Craig cupped his hand in the middle of his forehead.  "There's a cabin up ahead."   

    "Thank God. I don't think I could go any further. My legs and arms are ready to give out."

    A moment later, they stood in front of a covered porch. Next to the front door, a bell swung back and forth, causing a rhythmic ding. They removed their skis. Craig grabbed a rope attached to the bell and looped it around a hook. The ringing stopped. He reached out and knocked on the front door. It opened a few inches.

    Craig leaned forward. "Hello! Is anybody home?"

    There wasn't any answer or movement from inside. He pushed the door open and stepped inside with Molly.

    He gazed around a room containing a fieldstone fireplace, a wide slate-board table with four high-back wooden chairs, a tall floor cabinet, a wood burning stove/oven, and a kitchen sink with dishes, pots and pans stacked inside a dish drainer, and a rocking chair. Doorways on each side of the room led to small bedrooms. A layer of dust covered everything in the room.

    "There's wood next to the fireplace," said Molly excitedly."We can start a fire. I'm frozen."

    "Sounds great to me," said Craig.

    It took less than fifteen minutes to start a crackling fire. The smoke and fumes ascended a patent chimney.

    Molly had found kerosene lamps, which lit up the room. She now walked over to Craig, who stood in front of the fireplace. "Thank goodness we found this cabin."

    "We didn't find it," he said putting his arm around her. "The bell led us here."

    "Yeah. You're right."

    Craig glanced down at his watch. "It's just about four o'clock. We only have a couple hours of daylight.  Even if the snow stopped right now, it would be too dangerous to try to find our way back to the car without a compass. Tomorrow morning when the sun rises, we'll walk directly toward it since our car is almost directly southeast. That's if it's a nearly cloudless morning."

    "It will be. Wait and see."

    "That means we're going to have to spend Christmas Eve here."

    "We'll make the best of it."

    "Dang," said Craig. "I really screwed things up for us."

    "It's not your fault," she said. "I don't blame you for any of this." She knew Craig didn't need any more guilt feelings he already had. The death of his friend, Jeff, was enough.

    They unpacked their backpacks, placing its contents on the table. "We have four bottles of water, eight peanut butter cracker packets, and two candy bars."

    "And a cupboard with can foods," added Molly. "At least we won't starve or dehydrate."

    They then sat in front of the fireplace, holding hands. The aroma of pine from the burning logs filled the cabin. "This isn't so bad," said Craig. "Sitting in front of a warm, crackling fireplace on Christmas Eve with a beautiful woman. Life couldn't be much better." He reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a black velvet covered case. He handed it to Molly.

    "What's this?"

    "Your Christmas present from me."

    "Really?' She opened it. A diamond ring glistened from the flickering light of the log's dancing flames.

    "Will you marry me?" A tear cascaded down his right cheek. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

    "Yes. Yes. I'll marry you."

    Thud! Thud! The sound came from the porch.

    "Maybe the storm blew something onto the porch?" Craig said.

    "Or a mountain lion decide to find refuge and warmth from the blizzard?" They quickly stood up.

    "I need some type of weapon to protect us," Craig said peering around the room.

    A long handle axe leaned against the wall to his right. He quickly retrieved it and held it up in front of him, ready to strike any unwanted intruder.

    The front door swung open.

    Molly screamed.

    Craig's forearm muscles tightened as he squeezed the axe's handle.

    A middle-aged man stood in the doorway. "Hold that axe, young man. We mean no harm." Frozen snow hung from his full beard. A hooded winter coat, gloves, and leather boots protected his short stature. A duffle bag hung over his right shoulder.

    "Sorry. You startled us," he relaxed the grip on the axe, lowering it to the floor. "We didn't expect to see anyone out in this weather. Please come in."

    He stepped into the cabin, followed by a woman, likely his wife, and a third person that appeared to be in his twenties. Both them wore similar outer ware.

      The man set the duffle bag next to the table. The three of them then removed their coats, hanging them on hooks next to the front door.
 
    "My name is Benjamin Spurrier. This is my wife, Sarah. Our son, Stephen."

    "Please to meet you. I'm Craig. This is Molly."

    "Your fiancée, I presume."

    "How did you know that? I just proposed to her a little while ago."

    Ben chuckled. "I see a beautiful engagement ring on her finger and the box it came in on the table."

    "Congratulations to both of you," said Sarah.

    Steven stepped around his mother. He had a full beard and mustache like his father. "What are you doing here?"

    "Now honey. Don't be rude to our guest."

    "Guest?" Craig said frowning. It then dawned on him. "Is this your cabin?"

    "Yes. We've been coming here around Christmas eve for the past thirty years."

    Craig told them about their earlier misfortune skiing and how they ended up in the cabin. "I'm so sorry that we intruded on your property."

    "No problem," said Ben. "You're not the first people to use our cabin over the years. I'm just glad the tie down to our bell came unloose. You could have frozen to death in this weather. According to the news report today, it's going to continuing snowing until early tomorrow morning. Even if you get to your car, the road will be impassable until the snow plows come through tomorrow morning. You folks can spend Christmas eve with us."

    "Thank you," said Craig as he reached out and shook hands with Ben.

    Stephen took the axe, went outside, and cut down a small spruce tree. It took about an hour to decorate the tree with garland, tinsel, decorative bulbs, and a variety of Christmas ornament hangings. Ben placed an angel at the top of the tree.

    "Let's sing Christmas carols," said Sarah, as she took Stephen and Ben's hand.

    "Sounds great," said Craig putting his arm around Molly.

    A panorama of Christmas songs filled the cabin for the next thirty minutes. 

    "Why don't we sit at the table," said Sarah, "I'll make us some hot chocolate."

    "That would be nice," said Molly.

    Craig pulled out a chair, causing the duffel bag to fall. A picture album fell out. "Sorry." He reached down and picked it up. A few pictures fell out. One of them showed the cabin in a snowy scene with a younger Sarah standing next to a boy. He brought the picture closer to his eyes. "Oh my God! It's Jeff Holt!" He looked at Sarah. "What's he doing in this picture with you?"

    Sarah's jaw dropped. She turned and peered into Ben's eyes, apparently looking for an answer.

    "How do you happen to know him," asked Ben.

    "We were friends in the same boy scout troop. He went missing ten years ago just before Christmas. Where is he now?"

    "He's here with us," said Ben.

    "You mean Stephen is really--"

    "No. Stephen is our son," interrupted Ben.

    "Jeff died shortly after that picture was taken. Ten years ago, we found him wandering disoriented in the forest. He had a large bruise with swelling on his forehead. We'd heard on the radio about him missing. And that he was abandoned as a baby and raised by various foster parents. Some of them had allegedly abused him."

    "Why didn't you notify the authorities that you had him?"

    "We were going to do that. But Jeff pleaded with us not to. He said his present foster parents treated him terribly. That evening we decorated the tree and sang Christmas songs. He told us that it was the happiest time he felt in his whole life. That night he died in his sleep."

    "Probably the head concussion had caused bleeding inside his brain." Craig said as tears rolled down his cheek.

    "We decided to bury him under the cabin where the ground wasn't completely frozen."

    "Where's that?"

    Ben peered across the room. "Underneath the Christmas tree."

    Craig took a deep breath expelling the heavy weight of guilt. He then said aloud, "Sleep in heavenly peace…Jeff Holt."