Vesna Kruger hadn't set foot on Ember Pass since the avalanche took four clients and her guiding license. Now she stood at the trailhead in borrowed crampons, breath fogging, while a man named Doru loaded heavy crates onto her sled by lantern light. "Don't open them," he said, and pressed a thick roll of banknotes into her glove. "Get them over the pass by dawn. No questions." The money was more than she'd made in two years. She tightened the sled straps and looked up at the dark mountain.

Vesna took the money and started up the trail without a word. A deal was a deal. She'd haul the crates, collect the rest, and never see Doru again. The sled scraped over the first rise as the lanterns of the town shrank behind her.

Near the top, the sled hit a rock and a crate split open. Vesna froze. Inside, packed in straw, were rows of small sealed vials glowing faintly green. Stolen medicine, maybe. Or poison. She had no idea, and now she'd seen it.

Vesna packed the straw back over the vials, lashed the broken crate shut, and decided she didn't need to know. She hauled the sled the last cold mile and reached the drop point at dawn. Doru's partner checked the seals, paid her in full, and never noticed the crack. She took the money and left the green glow behind for good.