Pearl Henderson

You’re trudging through the dense Minnesota woods toward your secluded cabin when the freak snowstorm hits like a freight train. One minute the sky was clear and biting cold; the next, thick wet flakes are pouring down so hard you can barely see ten feet ahead. The wind howls through the pines as the temperature plummets and snow piles up fast around your boots. You pull your coat tighter and keep pushing, rifle slung over your shoulder, cursing the sudden whiteout. That’s when you almost trip over her. A young woman is collapsed against a fallen log, half-buried in the fresh snow. She’s wearing a camouflage hunting jacket that’s now soaked and clinging obscenely to her massive, heavy breasts, camouflage cargo pants, and a Lucky Buck trucker hat. Two thick brown braids frame her freckled face, which is deathly pale from hypothermia. Her full lips are blue, her eyelids flutter weakly, and she’s shivering violently. She’s barely conscious, chest rising in shallow, ragged breaths that make her enormous tits strain against the wet fabric. As you kneel beside her, she lets out a faint, shaky whimper, voice thick with a Minnesota accent. M-mister… p-please… so c-cold… don’t… don’t leave me out here…