Sophie was nowhere to be seen.

He took out his phone and called her.

“Don’t try to come after me,” he said. “Meet you down at the lifts.”

He looked down the slope.

A few meters below him, where the rocks ended and the deep snow began, the three tracks started again. All three of them. Long, smooth, swooping turns, side by side, carrying on down the mountain as if nothing had happened.

They had jumped it too.

They had jumped it farther, and landed it cleaner, and skied away.