“I don’t understand,” said Harper, poking at the fire until it spat sparks. “Did we miss something? Was some instruction lost in translation? How were we not aware that we were supposed to feed six huskies?”
Kat was on the sofa with the wounded husky, expertly bandaging its paw with the help of the small first aid kit she’d brought in her luggage. “It doesn’t matter who messed up, does it?” she cooed to the dog, leaning down to kiss it on the nose. “What matters is that we get to hang out with you and your gorgeous friends.”
Harper stared at her incredulously. “How do you do that? How do you win them over so fast?”
Kat shrugged. “My mum’s a vet. I’ve had animal emergency training from the best. I could treat a cut paw when I was six.”
“I don’t just mean the physical stuff,” said Harper. “It’s as if you read their minds. Half an hour ago, that husky was ready to tear you to pieces. Now she’s a pussycat.”
Kat secured the bandage with micropore tape and hugged the husky close. “You have to let them know you’re on their side. That’s the most important thing. Animals’ hearts are pure, but their trust is easy to lose. If I’d lied to her, told her, ‘Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit,’ and then she was in agony, next time she wouldn’t believe me.”
Harper sat on the arm of the sofa. “So, what did you tell her?”
“I said, ‘I’m going to disinfect and tape up your paw. It’ll hurt like hell, but we’ll get through it together, and I promise you’ll feel heaps better afterward. And when it’s over, I’ll give you a scrumptious dinner and tons of cuddles.’”
“You told her all of that?”
Kat smiled. “Didn’t have to. I thought it, and she picked up on it. Animals are the real mind readers. Most times, they know us better than we know ourselves. I only hope that the part about dinner is true. We need to find their food.”
“On it.” Harper returned to the kitchen to search. This time she realized that a tall framed poster of racing huskies hid a door with no handle. She pulled at the frame to open it. Taped to the other side of the door was a sheet printed with each husky’s name and the quantity of biscuits and meat (60 percent chicken, 40 percent beef) he or she ate daily.
“Jackpot! Husky chow and feeding instructions.”
Kat was relieved. A starving-husky crisis was one they could do without. She left her new friend on the sofa and laid out six bowls. Watching the husky for reaction, she read the names out loud: “Matty, Fleet, Rebel, Thunder, Nomad, and Dancer.”
On hearing her name, Nomad sat to attention.
“Good name for a wanderer,” approved Kat. “Huskies have a reputation for being escape artists. Nomad’s obviously the Houdini of the pack. She must have cut her paw getting out of the kennels to try to find her owner. Harper, are you sure your dad didn’t drop any hints about huskies at Nightingale Lodge? Could he have been saving them as a surprise for us?”
Harper wrinkled her nose. “Dad’s hopeless at keeping secrets, but I suppose it’s possible that he and your mom were in on it together. With the stress of the car breaking down and having to go to Lake Placid, maybe your mom forgot to ask us to feed them.”
“Possibly,” said Kat, knowing full well that an earthquake wouldn’t erase six hungry dogs from her mother’s mind. “Or if these are racing huskies, maybe Ross Ryan didn’t trust anyone except Mrs. Brody to take care of them. But then why didn’t she mention them when she messaged earlier to say she wouldn’t be able to get back here today because the snowy roads were too treacherous?”
Even as she spoke, Kat knew that the mystery of the huskies had nothing to do with Mrs. Brody’s travel difficulties. Something was wrong with Nightingale Lodge. She just couldn’t work out what.
Judging by the way Harper was drumming the arm of the chair and nervously jiggling a foot, her best friend was performing similar contortions trying to make the story they’d told themselves fit.
“I’ll send Dad a text, thanking him for the surprise but not saying what surprise I mean,” Harper said cheerfully. “See what he says.”
“And I’ll dish up the dogs’ dinners.” Kat cast a troubled glance out the window. “If the weather gets any worse, we’ll have to bring them inside. Huskies have two coats and a metabolism designed to cope with harsh conditions, but even they have limits.”
“That’s fine with me. No threat of intruders if we have six domestic wolves and a raccoon keeping watch.”
Two freezing relays to take food to the kennels, three hundred meters up the track, was enough to convince them that having the huskies in the cabin was the correct decision. According to the barometer hung from the porch railing, the temperature had dropped to 15 degrees.
Before the hour was up, the living room was freshly carpeted—in husky fur. Fleet, Matty, Dancer, and Thunder had made themselves at home on the sofas. Nomad and Rebel stretched out in front of the fire.
The girls were squashed up together in the armchair. As Harper flipped through TV channels in search of a weather forecast, her father’s reply pinged in from London.
Hey kiddo, great to hear from you. As I write, I’m chewing on rubbery poached eggs in my glam (NOT) airport hotel. Storm Mindy is causing mayhem here too. All New York–bound flights are canceled or delayed. WILL get to you before it’s time to come home even if I have to swim! Or ski!
Meantime your text made my day. I’m glad you’re managing to have a good time despite my epic passport fail and Ross’s car dying on you all.
I’m glad you like your surprise! I’m guessing you mean the waterfall behind Nightingale Lodge? I told Dr. Wolfe not to say anything because I thought you girls would get a kick out of it when you discovered it. Can’t wait to see it myself, though if the forecast’s accurate, it’ll shortly be wall-to-wall stalactites! Wrap up and take care. Will call when I land at Newark. Love Dad x
The girls rose and moved like sleepwalkers to the window at the back of the cabin. They stared out at the snowy hill. Through the pines, they could see the wooden corner of the kennels and the track that led to them. There was no telltale mist or rainbow. No muted roar.
“What waterfall?” said Harper.
“I knew it,” ranted Harper. “Soon as we walked into the cabin, I had a gut sense that something was off.”
“So did I,” said Kat. “I felt it in my bones.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?” accused Kat.
Harper collapsed into the armchair. “We need to take ten deep breaths. Whatever’s gone wrong is not our fault.”
Kat continued pacing. “The animals were the giveaway. If I hadn’t been so exhausted when we arrived, I’d have cottoned on sooner.”
“What animals?”
“The bear lamps and moose cushions. The husky cookie jar and squirrel dish towels.”
“I know, I know,” despaired Harper. “A whole safari park and not a single nightingale. But who’s the idiot who watched TV last night, totally forgetting that the main reason Dad rented Ross Ryan’s cabin was because it has NO TELEVISION?”
“We’re both idiots,” Kat corrected her. “Didn’t your dad describe Nightingale Lodge as a natural log cabin where we’d be able to lie in bed and gaze out over the lake?”
“Uh-huh. This cabin is red wood with a white trim and our room faces the hill at the back. But the biggest clues of all are our fluffy friends.” She leaned over to rub the ears of Fleet, the smallest dog. “The real Nightingale Lodge has no huskies.”
“We’re the world’s dumbest detectives,” Harper raged. “If we can’t detect that we’re in the wrong cabin, what hope do we have of solving the Wish List mystery with no internet?”
It was only then that the full implications of their situation began to sink in.
“Never mind the Wish List gang,” fretted Kat. “If the owner of this cabin catches us here, we’ll be the ones on the news: being charged with breaking and entering. We’re like Goldilocks in the ‘Three Bears’ story. We’ve moved into someone else’s cabin, eaten their dinner, slept in their bed. Unlike the fairy tale, we’ve also stolen their dogs. How did we manage this?”
“It was the nightingale sign,” Harper reminded her. “It was twisting in the wind and must have been facing the wrong direction. Jet took the right fork when he should have gone left. Those lights we saw on the other side of the lake, I’ll bet one of them is Nightingale Lodge.”
“Then we can fix this,” cried Kat. “It’s finally stopped snowing. Let’s clean the cabin, put the huskies in their kennels, and hike around the lake with as much of our baggage as we can carry. The rest we can hide in the shed we saw out the back. If we hurry, we’ll reach Nightingale Lodge before nightfall and before Mum arrives. We can pretend this was all a bad dream.”
Hypnotized by events unfolding on the silent TV, Harper was no longer listening. She snatched up the remote. “Kat, the storm! It’s coming for us.”
A stern American boomed, “Weather forecasters are blaming a brand-new multibillion-dollar IT system upgrade for a glitch that had them predicting that Storm Mindy would track south after dumping record snow on New England, leaving thirty thousand without power.
“Instead, residents of Vermont and the Adirondack region, who were caught off guard by last night’s nor’easter, are braced for an early blast of winter. Storm Mindy, the arctic beast that some are calling the Wolf from the North, has changed course and is bearing down on the northern Adirondacks. Officials are now scrambling to set up emergency shelters after the National Weather Service has issued a blizzard warning.
“Emergency services are gearing up for what could be the worst October storm for decades. Isolated communities in the High Peaks, Blue Mountain Lake, and Raquette Lake areas could be cut off by whiteout conditions and nearly twelve inches of snow. Panic buying of fuel, bottled water, and core groceries emptied shelves in stores—”
Harper muted the voice of doom. “We can forget hiking to Nightingale Lodge. Those isolated communities? We’re in one of them. If Mindy hits us tomorrow, it’ll be a miracle if we don’t have to dig our way out.”
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She handed it to Kat. “Message from your mom.”
They read it together, Harper resting her chin on her friend’s shoulder.
Dear Kat, you’ll have heard by now that we’ve chosen the worst possible weather week to take a vacation in the Adirondacks. Storm Mindy is on her way and we’re in her path! As if that wasn’t bad enough, the car part I need is out of stock and has to be ordered. If it’s not here by tomorrow, I’ll rent a car. I did try my best to find a cabdriver willing to take me to Nightingale Lodge before the storm arrives, but it’s impossible. Lake Placid’s jammed with people seeking refuge from the big freeze or buying survival essentials. If Mrs. Brody wasn’t with you, I’d be out of my mind with worry. Thanks for being so understanding, darling. Hope you don’t get too bored stuck indoors without TV or laptops. Spoke to Harper’s father. No doubt she’s heard that her dad’s flight has been delayed till Wednesday night. We love you both and are doing our best to get to you from opposite ends of the globe. Mum xx
“Please don’t tell her we’re alone in a stranger’s cabin,” begged Harper. “Dad will have a nervous breakdown.”
“As if,” retorted Kat.
Hi Mum, sorry you’re having a mare with the car. We’re snug here. The snow is soooo beautiful. We have books, a blazing fire, and a ton of food to help us survive Storm Mindy. I only hope the forest creatures don’t perish or get blown to Alaska.
The huskies weren’t in any danger of doing either. Prone in front of the fire, Nomad was dreaming, her fluffy ears twitching. Rebel yawned and started grooming his immaculate white paws.
Kat ended:
Don’t worry about us and we won’t worry about you! Stay warm and placid in Lake Placid till Mindy’s gone. When we’re all together, we’ll have the best vacation ever. K & H xx
The text whooshed away. Kat and Harper sat in shocked disbelief. They were trapped in who knew whose cabin with who knew whose dogs, with the Wolf from the North poised to pounce. Whatever happened now, they had no hope of rescue.
Their winter wonderland had just become a nightmare.