Luckily, while following the base of the mountain, we finally discover a small natural water pool. Calling it a lake would be generous—it’s barely sixteen feet across—but its water is so clear it’s instantly reassuring.
A huge grin spreads across Prax’s face, clearly relieved to finally clean himself up. He drops his backpack and jacket, then hands me a pistoblaster.
“Here. It’s set to wide incapacitation mode. We’ll bathe one at a time—it’s safer that way. If anything shows up while I’m in the water, don’t hesitate to shoot.”
Without waiting another second, he strips off his pants and slips into the pool. In the middle, it’s deep enough to reach his chest—or at least I think it is, since he quickly disappears underwater, clearly reveling in the refreshing feel.
Still, he doesn’t take too long. He scrubs himself thoroughly before stepping out and shaking off like a wet dog.
“Your turn!” he encourages, beaming. “It feels amazing!”
He picks up his weapon and stays naked, drying off. I’m not about to complain—he’s a sight for sore eyes.
Pallas is peacefully asleep on the bank, his little body clean after a thorough grooming.
Once I’m completely undressed, I walk up to the edge and dip one toe in the water… it’s freezing.
The cold instantly seizes my skin, sending chills down my spine. Goosebumps cover me in a desperate attempt to trap a thin layer of air for warmth—but I don’t have Prax’s fur, so that’s barely helpful. I give myself a mental pep talk, knowing there’s no way I’m going to subject my Sadjim to my body’s unpleasant odors any longer than necessary.
I inch my way in. The water wraps around my limbs like a vise. My fingers and toes go numb. My muscles contract involuntarily, trying to produce heat. Taking a deep breath—and telling myself that the faster I do it, the less painful it’ll be—Iplunge in all at once. The impact of the cold on my chest knocks the air out of me. The icy water stings, every nerve ending screaming at the outrageous temperature. I let out a strangled moan as pins and needles rake across my skin. It’s awful.
Determined to make this hellish ordeal as short as possible, I scrub myself quickly and head back to shore. But the torture isn’t over—a cold breeze picks that moment to cut through me like a blade.
“How odd!” Prax comments. “You’re completely blue! And your skin’s all... bumpy!”
He seems genuinely surprised, like he has no idea how uncomfortable I must be.
And to my disbelief, his body responds to my nudity. Are you serious right now? He can forget it—I’m focused on surviving, not entertaining his libido. I get dressed as fast as I can while he watches with visible disappointment.
“Warm up in the sun. I’m taking Pallas out to hunt,” he says, pulling his pants back on.
Fantastic. As if the arctic bath wasn’t enough, now I’ll probably have to eat dead animal. My heart screams at me to say no, to hold onto what little dignity I have left. But the scientist in me knows better. Humans are omnivores. My body can handle it. And if I keep starving myself, I’ll get too weak and become a burden. So I’ll do what I must to stay alive. Whatever it takes.
Prax returns nearly an hour later, just as I’m dozing off in a warm patch of sunlight. Along with his solar cooking cube, he’s carrying a bundle wrapped in a wide leaf. He kneels down and unfolds it in front of me.
“Found these!” he says, a little uncertain. “Not sure if you eat this kind of stuff, but I picked everything I could find. Tasted it—definitely edible.”
To my delight, I see a small haul of haskap berries—they look like elongated blueberries and thrive in harsh conditions.
“Neela,” he says gently, “you know this won’t be enough to sustain you all day. You’re going to need to eat some of the cooked stuff too.” His voice is soft, almost apologetic.
I sigh deeply and nod.
“I know. I’ll do it. I’ll save the fruit for the end of the meal. And Pallas? Did you find anything for him?”
“You mean like a lactating female mouflon that just happened to offer up her milk for his nutritional needs?”
"You’re right, that was a dumb question. I just worry about him. He’s gone two days without anything but meat. Switching suddenly from milk to an all-meat diet can cause nutritional deficiencies—even if he had started eating solids. Meat alone isn’t enough. He still needs fats, vitamins, minerals...”
“Yeah, I know. He’ll have to tough it out with us until we can find a better solution. Now come on, beautiful, stop procrastinating and eat a few bites of what I cooked. I’m not telling you what it is on purpose, so you won’t freak out. Just close your eyes and pretend it’s... seasoned lentils or something.”
Have I mentioned how sweet and understanding he is? He’s doing everything he can to help me through what should be a simple act: eating.
I close my eyes like he suggested and focus on visualizing crushed grains. It actually smells kind of good. He brings a bite up to my nose. For a second, the image of a baby bunny flashes in my mind and I nearly gag—but I push the thought aside. I focus instead on the process of digestion. The mouth, where mastication begins. Teeth cutting and grinding. The tongue, coating the food in saliva. Down the throat, the swallowing muscles doing their job. Into the esophagus, and then to the stomach. There, hydrochloric acid and pepsin begin breaking it all down...
“That’s it, you’re doing great!” Prax praises me.
I open my eyes and realize I’ve eaten several bites without even noticing. I was so hungry…
