It’s absolutely freaking freezing.
My breath puffs in front of me, and there’s ice crystalized on the corners of my mouth. I wipe it away, confused. It’s still dark outside. Why is it still dark if it’s morning? I push at one of the flaps at the front of the tent?—
And snow cascades into the entrance. Faint light spills in, but not much. Ugh. I shudder, scooting to the back of the tent. I’m shivering despite the fact that I’m rolled in blankets. It’swickedly cold, and I remember that the brutal season is almost here. Last year, it barely bothered me because I didn’t leave the cave much. I guess I get to experience it in all its glory this year.
Lucky, lucky me.
I pull my furs tighter around my body and check on Pacy. He’s sleeping peacefully, even though his diaper stinks to high heaven. The cold doesn’t bother him nearly as much as it does me, because he’s half sa-khui. More than half, really. He’s the same dusky blue as Pashov, has knobby little horns and a flippy tail. Most all that he’s gotten from me is extra fingers and the little dimple in his chin. He’s sucking on his fingers right now as he sleeps, oblivious to the fact that it’s positively arctic. Or Antarctic. Whichever is colder.
I eye my little tent. It must be new, because I don’t remember having one. I touch the interior wall and find it’s the soft leather hide of a dvisti, probably waterproofed in the last two weeks of frantic leathermaking. Did Pashov make it for me? If so, when? Or is this just borrowed from another family and I’m reading too much into things?
Probably. Still warms me a little, though.
I dress in as many layers of furs as I can squeeze on, and I’m still cold. Shivering, I nurse Pacy quickly, wrap him in double-blankets, and then emerge from my tiny tent.
Snow is falling thick and heavy, the pale twin suns completely obscured by cloud cover. It’s not a blizzard, not quite. But it is going to make traveling a bitch. Snow is piled high around the front of my tent, and I realize as I stagger out that it must have snowed several feet overnight. Just walking is a challenge.
“Ho,” calls someone, and then Pashov is right there, taking Pacy in his arms and offering me a hand. “Can you walk?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, staggering through the hip-high snow. My heart’s fluttering at the sight of him, and I’m feeling schoolgirlishly giddy that he seemed to be waiting for me. “I see we got a bit of weather overnight.”
“This is but the beginning,” he says, and sounds cheerful over it. Crazy man.
The landscape is completely changed, thick white powder blanketing everything. There’s a small fire built and a group of humans huddled close to it to warm up. I join them, and we sip hot tea and chew on dried meat to try and breakfast before the day’s travel begins. I eat slowly, taking time with each bite. Not because it tastes good—it doesn’t—but because I’m dreading the thought of walking today.
Eventually, my tea gets cold, no matter how slowly I sip it, and people start to get up. Vektal comes to the group to retrieve Georgie, and he’s full of energy. The snow and cold aren’t bothering him or the other sa-khui. For a moment, I’m bitterly jealous of his immunity to the chill. It seems unfair that even with a cootie in my breast, I should be so darn cold.
“Let us put the fire out,” Vektal says to our small group. “Finish your meals, and then we must go. This nice weather will not hold up for long.”
“Nice weather?” Josie chokes out.
“A storm will be rolling in soon,” Hemalo offers, pointing at the sky. “Look at how dark the clouds are.”
A chorus of female groans meets his comment.
I get to my feet slowly. Everything aches and feels knotted up, and the prospect of more weather makes me want to scream. I settle Pacy on my hip and turn toward my tent, only to find that it’s gone.
In its place is a much larger sled, with Pashov securing a large leather cover over its contents.
I struggle to wade through the snow over to his side. “Is my tent gone?”
He turns and looks at me, then rushes over to grab Pacy from my arms. “I packed it for you.”
“You did?”
Pashov casually tucks Pacy against him and grins at me. “Of course. I made it for you. I will pack it up for you.” He grabs Pacy’s waving little hand and gives it a small shake. “How is this little one today?”
“He’s great.” I’m a little wary at Pashov’s mood…but pleased. In this moment, he feels so much like his old self that it’s making me ache. “His mommy is struggling, though.”
Pashov immediately turns, surprised. He moves to my side, wading through the deep snow as if it is nothing. “What is it?”
I shake my head, sorry I complained. “Cold. It’s all right. I just need to adjust.”
He gestures over at the sled he’s packing. “I have more furs?—”
“I’ll be fine once I start walking.”
He turns back to me, surprised. “You wish to walk today?”
