She was lost. The world had disappeared into swirling, biting snow. The rough ground beneath her feet convinced her she'd veered off the road. Her toe caught a lump and she staggered to keep her balance.

Nineteen-year-old Vivian Halliday's thoughts filled with a fury of denials. She couldn't be lost. No one would realize her predicament. No one would look for her. No one knew where she was. Lord, God, help me.

The same prayer she'd uttered so many times. Not for herself. She knew she didn't deserve it. There were times she hadn't listened to God or followed His voice as she ought. There were times she'd totally ignored Him and done her own thing. But she prayed for another and, lately, her prayer had grown more urgent. Today, however, her need was solid and desperate. The cold had already tightened her ribs to the point she could barely breathe, but thinking about how much she had to lose gave icy spears to the cold as it clawed into her lungs.

Snow coated her cheeks and iced her lashes. The wind tore at her cloak. She pulled the heavy woolen material tighter, then bent her head low and turned her back to the storm, letting it push her. It mattered not where she went. One direction was the same as another in this white wilderness.

"God, help me," she called, but the wind whipped her words into silence. She stumbled. Righted herself. Swayed.

A mewling sound came from inside her cloak.

The tiny cry filled her with fresh determination and she lifted her head and peered into the white nothingness.

She must escape this storm. She just had to keep moving and find shelter. Nothing must defeat her—not man, not beast, not beastly weather. Lord, God, in You I trust. Save