She was staring out of the window, her hands were on her belly where she could feel the new life. 
The snow was still falling heavy and piling up in places where the heavy wind dropped it. A glittering world, cold, so cold. And white, whiter as her face was. 
She would never be able to go through that weather to the town, even if she could leave the little house. There was no other option then to wait for him, deep in her bones she was sure of it. 

But why did it take him so long?

In good weather it was a 25 minutes stroll down the mountain to the town. In this weather? This snow? It would take longer, of course. Two hours. Maybe three. 

But he was out there for six hours now. 

Not long and it would be dark.

Had something happened to him? Was he injured? Or was he staying down in the town, knowing he would not be able to get back? But he had promised to come back, vowed to come back to her. 
The weather would not be better for two, maybe three days more. It was one of the worst snowstorms in decades, they had said in the radio.

If he didn’t come… and she could not get out of the house… would she slowly die here, looking out of the window? Was that the result of her doings?

https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2015/12/08/00/49/cabin-1082063_960_720.jpg
[CCO source](https://pixabay.com/de/kabine-kiefern-wildnis-natur-1082063/)

The worst was not knowing what would happen. She feared death, but even more she feared the uncertainty that was running through her vains. 

It was already getting dark. The moon had to be up, a full moon with its pale but strong light. But the dark grey clouds, like pressed wool of sheep, gave no hint. If the sun disappeared behind the mountain, the snow would eat all the light that was left. Nobody would be able to find the way in the woods in less then half an hour. 

And he still was not here. Even though he had promised.

And then there was it. First she doubted her own senses, thinking the whirling cold snow was playing tricks on her senses. But the hunched figure was getting closer, bigger and sharper. The figure held a rifle in one hand and had a backpack on the shoulders. It was him! He finally made it to the little house on the mountain! In that bad weather!

His backpack rumbled on the floor, followed by silent snow sliding off the backpack and himself. Breathing heavily he stretched himself and only then looked at her.
“I am back”, he said, resting his blue eyes on her thin face and then her round belly.

“I thought you would not come, that you were lost in the snow”, was her reply. 
“I promised, didn’t I? That I would be back and then I would give you what you deserve.”

He opened the backpack and took out a box with bullets. 
“Too bad we had none left. Would have been way faster.”
He loaded the gun and looked into her eyes. 
“I see you didn’t even try to open the chains?”
“You have broken the lock”, she laughed despairingly. “How should I do that?”
“You still do not want to say where the guy that made my wife a baby fled to?”
“No. It was my fault. So I will bear the responsibility alone.”
“If that is your last wish.”
He aimed the gun to where he thought the baby’s heart would be. A few lumps of snow fell from the trees as the shot echoed through the silent winter forest.