Steve scrambled down the ladder. Dad leapt off the couch. “What? Where?” Dad said, rubbing his eyes. “How?”

Steve was already pulling his boots and jacket on. “I woke up in the middle of the night and went out to check on the snow. Maybe they slipped out behind me?”

Charles slid out of the sleeping bag and ran for his own jacket and boots. A moment later, he and Dad and Steve were all outside, yelling for Freckles and Fluffy.

The snow was still coming down, swirling out of the dim early-morning sky. Charles followed Steve from the back door to the sugaring shed. The heavy, wet snow came up above his knees. It was tough going, slogging through the drifts.

“Where’d they go?” Steve asked, waving his arms. His face was red and his eyes were wide.

“We’ll find them,” Charles said. “We have to find them.” He had never seen Steve look upset before. He pictured the little puppy and the soft, baby lamb floundering through the snow and his heart sank. This was exactly the kind of thing Dad had meant about why Steve didn’t want pets. Too much responsibility.

“They’re not around back,” Dad said, coming from the other side of the cabin. “I didn’t see any tracks at all.”

“Okay,” said Steve. He took a few deep breaths, as if to calm himself. “We’ll have to search farther from the house. We’ll need snowshoes.” He headed for the cabin, then stopped short when he came close to the door. “Oh, no,” he said, stooping over to look more closely. “The poor little guy.”

“What is it?” Charles asked. He and his dad joined Steve by the door.

“Someone tried to get our attention,” Steve said, pointing to the bottom of the door. At one corner the blue paint was scratched all the way down to bare wood.

Charles felt his heart skip a beat. “That must have been Freckles, scratching to be let in,” he said.

“Exactly,” said Steve. “They got out, but then they couldn’t get back inside.”

“And I bet Fluffy was bleating, too,” said Dad. “How could we have slept through that?”

Steve grunted and stood up. “We were really tired,” he said. “And the sound of the wind must have been louder. Anyway, we didn’t hear them. Now we have to find them.” He grabbed snowshoes from their hooks inside the mudroom and handed them around.

“But how do we know where to look? There aren’t any tracks to follow,” Dad said. “The storm wiped them out.”

“And we wiped them out,” said Charles, suddenly realizing what had happened. “We can’t see any tracks right around here because we ran around and messed everything up. Maybe if we just go a little bit farther we’ll see something.”

“Just what I was thinking,” said Steve as he buckled on his snowshoes. “Let’s go.” He plunged off into the snow. A moment later, Dad and Charles followed.

It was not easy, slogging through the deep snow. Charles’s snowshoes punched through the heavy, wet drifts no matter how carefully he tried to walk. He felt like he was tripping over his own feet. He had to lift his knees high for each step, as if he was marching. The snow melted around the tops of his boots, and his wet socks squelched as he walked. It was exhausting.

“Take it easy, sport,” said Dad from behind him. Dad was breathing hard, too. “Don’t try to rush; that only makes it harder.”

But Charles felt like he had to rush. If he felt cold and wet and tired and frustrated, think how those two baby animals must feel, out there on their own!

“I think I see tracks,” Steve shouted. Charles saw him stoop over, then kneel down in the snow. “Yes!”

Charles and Dad caught up to him, and Steve showed them the indentations in the snow. “They’re blurry because the snow is still falling. But I’m almost sure these are recent.”

“I don’t get it,” Dad said. “Why would they wander even farther away from the house? I mean, here they are, out in a howling snowstorm. Wouldn’t you think they would try to find shelter?”

Charles stared at Dad. “That’s it!” he said.

Steve looked confused for a moment, then his face lit up and he nodded at Charles. “You’re right!” He stood up. “Let’s go.”

Dad didn’t get it yet. “Go where?” he asked.

To Charles it was so obvious. If the animals needed shelter, Freckles knew where to find it. That’s where he would have gone. That’s where he would have taken his friend. “To the cave, to the place where we first found Freckles,” Charles said, following Steve up the trail.

Sure enough, the blurry tracks turned off the main trail toward the pine forest, just as they had on that first day. Steve was charging through the snow now, and Charles and Dad struggled to keep up.

The snow wasn’t as deep once they were in the woods, where the long boughs of the pine trees had caught the falling flakes. As Steve pushed through, drifts of snow fell from the branches, slipping down Charles’s neck and making him shiver. He didn’t care. They were getting closer.

“Freckles!” he called. “We’re coming!”

When they entered the small clearing near the rocky ledge, Charles tried to dash ahead. He couldn’t wait to see Freckles’s face sticking out from the little cave opening.

“Wait,” said Steve, grabbing Charles’s jacket. “Don’t scare them.”

Charles slowed down. He knew Steve was right. Even though Freckles and Fluffy had gotten used to people—and even liked being around them—they were probably very frightened right now.

Dad came up behind them, and Charles put a finger to his lips. Dad nodded. All three of them crept quietly forward until they were close to the rocky ledge. Charles held his breath. There! There, in the dark little cave opening, Charles saw a flash of white, a spot of brown.

Steve motioned for them to stop. He knelt down, and so did Charles and Dad. “Hey, friends,” Steve said softly. “It’s us. We’re here to help.”

Charles saw Freckles poke his whole head out of the cave. And, just behind him, he saw Fluffy’s adorable face, with its sticking-out ears! “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Don’t be scared.”

That was when Fluffy pushed right past Freckles and bounded into the clearing, bleating happily. Or maybe hungrily. Or probably both.

Charles picked the lamb up and held him close. “There you are,” he said. “You’re safe with us.”

Now Freckles ran out, too—straight for Steve.

I thought you’d never find us!

Steve laughed as he scooped the little dog into his arms and hugged him. “You rascal,” he said. “Running off like that. You had us worried.”

“But he was smart to come here,” said Charles. “He knew just what to do to take care of himself and his friend.”

“Let’s get both of these friends home,” said Dad. “I bet they’re hungry and cold and tired.” He helped Charles zip Fluffy inside his jacket, where the lamb would be cozy, and then all three of them trudged back to the cabin, carrying their precious cargo.

When they got inside, Charles rubbed Fluffy down with one of the towels while Steve dried Freckles. Dad brought over a bottle, and Charles sat right down by the woodstove to feed the bleating lamb. “That’s right,” he said as Fluffy sucked at the bottle. “You’re safe now.” Freckles curled up next to them, gazing lovingly at his woolly friend.

Steve got up to pour out some kibble for Freckles. “Come on, pup,” he called. “You must be hungry, too.”

Freckles glanced over at his dish and thumped his tail, but he didn’t budge.

I’m good for now. Just want to make sure my friend is okay.

Charles felt the lamb relax in his arms. The bottle was nearly empty, and Fluffy’s eyelids were drooping. Soon it would be nap time again. Charles sighed and let himself relax, too. He was so glad that both animals were safe and sound in the cabin.

“Look,” said Steve. He pointed out the window, and Charles saw a patch of blue. “The snow has finally stopped. The wind has died down, too. I think the sun might even come out.” He grinned at Dad and Charles. “You know what that means? The trees will start running again. More sap to gather.”