The scent of burnt potatoes hung heavy in the evening air. Smoke from their ruined supper made Emma's eyes water as she cowered behind the table.

"Who burned my damn supper!?" her father bellowed—his angry voice echoing off the rickety cabin walls.

Silas Hawke was a giant oak tree of a man with a terrible temper and a heavy hand.

Carolyn Hawke, Emma's mother, hung her head as she stood before her husband. "I'm sorry. I can make more."

A resounding crack filled the cabin as Silas swung out and struck his wife sharply across the face. Emma winced as Carolyn fell to her knees and clutched her welting cheek.

"Do ya think I have money fer wasted food? Do ya want to throw my money away?"

Before Carolyn could respond, Silas kicked her and she fell onto her back on the dirt floor. Emma screamed as her father kicked her mother's battered body over and over and over again.

Silas had always been angry and abusive but this was different. The liquor on his breath was stronger and his temper greater than Emma had ever known it to be before.

He was going to kill her mother.

Emma leapt to her feet and ran for him. "Papa, stop! Yer gonna kill her!"

He didn't seem to hear her as he continued to beat his wife's body with his worn leather boots.

Emma wished her mother would have fought back years ago against the devil of a man. She wished her mother could have found the strength to get away from the monster. But the woman had never put up any fight against her husband's abuse—and now that was going to cost her her life.

In an act of pure desperation, Emma leapt upon her father's back. Silas roared with rage. He forgot about his attack on Carolyn and turned his attention to his only child.

"Ya ungrateful, brat child!" he exclaimed, reaching behind him in a desperate attempt to pull Emma off. "Ya dare lay yer hands on me?"

Emma was in no hurry to feel his angry fists striking her again—but enough was enough. The man had to be stopped!

Silas spun in wide circles and Emma held tight.

Bellowing his frustrations, Silas ran backward and rammed Emma against the wall. The breath rushed from her lungs. Pain dazed her and her grip on her father fell away.

As Emma fell to the dirt, Silas whirled to face her. "How dare ya attack me...." He growled, rage flashing in his hard brown eyes.

"Ya were killin' her...." Emma gasped, struggling to pull air into her stunned lungs.

Silas snorted. "She's a worthless whore. Never was a good wife. Burnt meals and a messy home... and only one waste of a child came from her womb."

Emma felt tears on her face. Tears born of anger and fear. "Please pa... Me and mama, we do the best we can..."

Silas glared before stooping low and swinging his fist hard. It connected solidly with Emma's jaw.

Stars exploded in her head and the world spun. She was faintly aware of her father storming from the cabin into the late February cold. As the door slammed shut behind him, Emma fell to the floor and her world went black.

Wind whistling through the cracks in the cabin walls brought Emma awake some time later. Night had fallen, the cabin was dark and her head was pounding.

"Mama....?" Emma whispered through the pain.

There was no response.

Fear lay heavy on Emma's heart as she crawled across the dirt floor to her mother.

Carolyn Hawke was breathing but the breaths were shallow Her face was swollen, discolored and unrecognizable.

"Mama...?" Emma whimpered, laying a gentle hand on the woman's cheek.

Carolyn's eyes fluttered open as she took a rattling breath. "Emma...."

"What do I do, mama?" Emma asked, feeling so much younger than her seventeen years.

Carolyn swallowed hard. The sadness was deep in what little of her blue eyes was visible. "Run Emma. Run away. Leave this mountain and don't look back. Don't let him kill ya too.. or marry ya off to a man who would do the same..."

Emma shook her head. "But, mama, I can't leave ya...."

Carolyn's sad eyes closed and her breaths grew weaker still. "I'm dying, child."

"No mama...."

Carolyn's eyes opened a bit and a sad smile curved her swollen cheeks. "Ya gotta be strong now. Yer a woman and ya need to leave this place and go somewhere where ya can truly live and be happy."

Emma's heart was lying broken in her chest. She didn't want to believe her mother was dying—but she could see the proof for herself.

"Promise me..." Carolyn pleaded. "Promise me you'll leave."

Emma's throat was tight but she somehow managed to squeak out, "Okay."

Her mother seemed to relax then. Emma watched in helpless horror as her chest ceased to rise and her head fell to the side.

Letting out a cry of despair, Emma clung to her mother's broken body. She wept in sorrow for her loss. She wept in sorrow for the wasted life her mother had led married to a mean, cruel mountain man.

And, she wept for herself. For the uncertainty and fear she was now facing.

Emma had no real idea how long she laid holding her mother's lifeless body. A noise from outside drew her from her sorrow. Had her father returned?

If he had, he would probably kill her too—she was a witness to murder, after all. Not that there was any law to report any murder to. And no one would listen to a poor, ignorant mountain woman anyhow. Men on the mountain would see her as nothing but a slave to meet their needs and no one from the valleys below would put much value in her word.

But her father would kill her just the same. Or, he would beat her until she was begging, pleading, wishing for death.

The noise proved to be a false alarm but it was enough to get her moving. Emma pressed one last kiss to her mama's cool brow and got to her feet.

She pulled on her threadbare wool coat and slipped her dirty bare feet into her father's tattered cast off shoes. Her wool cap and gloves had holes the rats had chewed into them but Emma pulled them on—they would have to do.

Emma cast one last mournful glance toward her mother, wishing she could do something and yet knowing she could not. Her father could return any moment. She had no more time to waste.

Pulling her coat tighter, Emma opened the door and set off into the deep snow and freezing wind.

Down.

Emma's legs carried her down the mountain.

She had never been off the mountain before. Her father had insisted she never venture to the towns and valleys below. He swore the people there were evil and hated anyone from the mountains. Emma had never in her life met a valley person.

All she knew of them she had learned from other mountain folk. Which made her wonder and doubt whether any of those snobbish folks down below would help her at all.

The cold quickly sapped her of strength and energy as it seeped into her bones and stole her breath. Still Emma trudged on through the nearly knee deep snow. Her family didn't own a horse. She wished they did. She could have stolen it and made her escape a bit easier.

Her steps began to falter as Emma stumbled alone, barely noticing that the snow seemed to be getting shallower. She knew she had to find shelter soon—or the cold would kill her before her father got the chance to do it.

The ground began to even out and the snow only came to her chins as Emma neared the bottom of the mountain. She'd been walking for miles and miles. Her face and hands were numb with cold and her strength was quickly failing.

Still she went onward in the dark, the wind, the snow....

Emma nearly cried out with shock when a dark building suddenly loomed in the distance.

A barn.

A home stood behind it but Emma didn't dare knock on a door in the middle of the night. Not this close to the foot of the mountain. She couldn't be sure if the homeowner would be friend or foe.

Emma pulled the barn door open a crack and slipped inside. The milking cow and two horses barely seemed to notice her arrival. Emma stumbled through the darkness to an empty back stall.

She buried herself within the hay, her body shaking so violently, her teeth chattered together.

She wasn't sure if she would live until tomorrow. She was so very very cold.

Tears froze to her cheeks as she remained buried in that hay and wondered what she would do if she lived.