They had climbed the slopes in hope of just a glimpse. Some hairy arm, a beady eye. Scraggly white fur. Two days, still nothing.
On the third day, after sunset, they began to hear his call. Deep, but inviting, as the howl of any creature in search of a mate.
They were scared. She burrowed tight against him in the sleeping bag. The drifts accumulated like white bricks.
The next morning, he could not find her. She had disappeared, leaving only red fingerprints on the tent poles.
He stayed as long as he could on the mountain, wanting to glean some clue as to her whereabouts.
As he fell asleep that final night, he heard twin voices howling in the wind.