Lana can't believe what has happened—she’s stuck out here, freezing and shivering in the middle of Iceland.

Just two hours ago, everything was fine. Then her jet ski went off course, and she ended up tumbling into the snow-covered hill like some kind of rag doll.

Of course, neither the guides nor her friends noticed she was gone. They were too far ahead, blissfully unaware, while she was left behind—completely stranded.

Fast forward to now—Lana is huddled up against a tree, desperately trying to get her phone to work. The cold is biting at her, and she can’t shake off the chill from that ridiculous tumble.

“Come on…”

She mumbles through her teeth, biting down on her glove while trying to tap the screen with her bare finger.

Frustrated, she groans, throwing her phone onto her leg. She rests her head against the rough bark of the tree, her leg and arm both aching from the fall.

Great, she’s almost certain she sprained her ankle. She can barely put weight on it—trust me, she tried. And her wrist? Yeah, it’s not looking good—definitely swollen.

“Can this vacation get ANY worse?”

She says bitterly, realizing the irony of it all. Just then, the tree sways slightly in the wind, and a massive clump of snow dumps right on her.

She gasps as the snow cascades over her brown hair and her stupid yellow beanie. All she can do is lean back against the cold bark, resigned to whatever fate has in store for her now.