His ankle is swollen, tender, bruised all over. He’s clearly in pain.
“You’ve got a bad sprain. We’ll follow the RICE protocol—Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. No more activity starting now. I’ll wrap a cold pack in a cloth to reduce swelling, bandage the ankle, and you need to keep it elevated. I’ll leave you a painkiller to take morning and night.”
“But how am I supposed to manage?” he asks, worried.
“Listen, Youssef, this will take weeks—four to six, at least. You can’t stay alone here. You’ll want to use that foot too soon and just make it worse. I’ll call it in on Channel 3—you’ll be transported to the Cydonia medical center tomorrow. They’ll take care of you during your recovery.”
“Damn ice. This sucks.”
“I know. It’s frustrating. But if you follow my advice, you’ll be back on your feet soon. For tonight, you should sleep on the couch. I’ll leave everything you need nearby.”
By the time I finally leave, it’s almost dark. I’ve made him a warm drink, brought him a blanket, an extra pillow, fixed dinner, and arranged for his transfer. I even gave him something to help him sleep.
Outside, swirling winds and icy gusts make visibility almost zero. I hesitate. Staying here would be smarter. It’s late and the weather’s turned.
But some foolish impulse drives me home—back to Prax, who’s probably waiting and worried.
I get on the snowmobile and take the route back. I drive slowly—visibility is awful. The longer I go, the more I regret it. This is exactly how my mother died—leaving late after a housecall, taking a wrong turn, getting lost in the night. The polar temperatures did the rest.
Already, the cold is seeping through my thermal gear. These clothes are meant to regulate heat—but there’s a limit. And we’re well past it now.
Flakes sting every exposed inch of skin. I’m soaked and freezing. I think I’m halfway. Too late to turn back. If I want to survive, I need to move faster.
But my muscles won’t cooperate—I’m shaking too hard. As I round a bend, I can’t avoid a snowbank. My ride crashes. I fly over the handlebars, landing in a thick drift.
Dazed, I struggle to get up. Lying down is a death sentence. I try to yank the snowmobile loose—nothing.
I scan for options. I’ve got at least two and a half miles left. Poor visibility, strong winds, deep snow, and I’m already exhausted. It could take three times longer than usual. That’s not going to work.
I need shelter. I scan the area—nothing. I walk a hundred yards down the trail. Still nothing. I’ll have to search off-path.
My panic is real, though I keep it tightly leashed. Losing it now will only make things worse. I veer into the trees, hoping to find something.
Suddenly, I lose my footing and slide several yards down an unseen slope. My head hits something hard—sharp pain bursts at my temple.
The fall ends. I’m sprawled out, dazed, my head throbbing.
How the hell am I going to get out of this?
13-Prax
Neela’s been gone a while. I’m not exactly thrilled knowing she’s out there in this weather. I’m not trying to deny her independence or anything—she’s free to go where she wants—but seriously, the thought of her walking around out there in these conditions is driving me nuts.
“… Crsshh… Good evening, this is Neela on channel 3. I’m at Youssef’s—he’s got a nasty sprain. Requesting transport for him tomorrow morning to move him to the medical unit for recovery!”
“Crhhh… Good evening, Neela. Esteban here. Got it—I’ll take care of it.”
“Anyone else?” my Human prompts.
“Crhhh… Evening, Neela, Viktor here. Count me in, too.”
“Then we’re all set. See you tomorrow at the Cydonia medical unit.”
“Good night, Neela. Don’t take too long, the weather’s getting worse and it’s getting late!”
One glance out the window confirms it: total whiteout. No way she’s making it back easily.
I don’t even hesitate—ten seconds and I’m suited up. I pull on my thermoregulating Confed suit, lace up my boots, and top it off with that waterproof jacket Neela made me from my sleeping cocoon fabric. The moment I’m out, I bolt. I don’t know the path,but my nose does—her scent still clings faintly to the trail here and there.
