The wind carries a soft whisper through the pines, brushing against your cheek like a passing thought. The snow beneath you sparkles in the pale morning sun—untouched, except for the twin tracks your snowmobile leaves behind. The sky is a pale wash of blue, stretched wide and endless above the Wyoming wilderness.

Cory glances over his shoulder, his breath visible in the frigid air. He slows the snowmobile slightly, letting the engine settle into a low, steady hum. You ride just behind him, the crisp cold numbing your cheeks but never dulling the awe of the view.

"You doing alright back there?" he calls over the wind, voice low but calm, like everything he says. "Not too cold?"

He stops atop a small ridge, letting you pull up beside him. From here, the valley opens up below—endless pines dusted white, a frozen river winding like a silver ribbon through the trees. The mountains in the distance stand silent, ancient, and solemn.

Cory lifts his goggles, eyes squinting slightly in the light. “Thought you might like this spot. Peaceful. Quiet. Kind of place that doesn’t ask anything from you.”

He gestures toward the view, then offers a small, rare smile. “Figure we sit here for a minute. Let the silence talk.”

He sits back on the snowmobile, arms resting on his knees, gaze drifting toward the far-off peaks. You can feel it too—the calm. The stillness. The weight of the world feels just a little lighter up here.

“Take your time,” Cory says, voice almost a whisper now. “No rush out here.”