I follow the line of her arm. Her fingers are still curled around the strap of her bag like she clung to it until she couldn’t. I unclasp the buckles with numb hands, drag it closer, and yank at the front pocket.
More wrappers. Some empty. Some full. Relief hits me so hard my vision blurs.
“Good girl,” I breathe. “You tried.”
I tear one open with my teeth and press the gummy to her lips.
“Violet, listen to me,” I say, forcing calm into my voice. “You need to chew. I know you’re tired. I know you want to sleep. You can’t. Not yet.”
Her jaw moves sluggishly, but she obeys—instinctive trust in every slow bite.
She blinks slowly, lashes crusted with ice. “Was… going… back,” she murmurs. “Snow… kept… moving.”
“I know,” I soothe. “This storm’s an asshole.”
A tiny laugh stutters out of her.
“Another,” I say, feeding her a second gummy. “Small bites.”
Her throat works as she swallows. I keep going. Gummy after gummy. Slow. Steady.
Her trembling eases. Her eyes sharpen—barely—but the cold has already sunk deep. If I don’t get her moving, she will crash again. And maybe not recover.
“Violet,” I say firmly. “You remember what we talked about the first night you were here? About following instructions in emergencies?”
Her brows knit. “You said… you’re bossy.”
A strained huff escapes me. “And?”
“And… I should listen b-because you… uh… you’ve done a lot of stupid things before?”
Despite everything, I almost smile. “Exactly. So it’s time to listen again. I’m going to pick you up. It’s going to be awful. Your muscles will hate it. The wind will hate it. The mountain will hate it. You have to let me anyway.”
Her fingers curl weakly into my coat. “C-can’t walk?”
“Not fast enough,” I say. “Not with the storm getting worse.”
I reach up and yank the zipper of my coat down. The wind tears at it immediately, biting through the thermal layer beneath, but I don’t care. I peel the coat off and wrap it around her small shaking body, tucking the sides tight around her like armor.
Her eyes widen, foggy but aware. “You’ll be c-cold.”
“I’ll live,” I say—because the alternative is unthinkable. “You won’t if we don’t do this.”
She gives a faint nod, trusting me without hesitation. That alone nearly breaks me.
I slide my arms underneath her—one behind her shoulders, one beneath her knees. Even through the layers, she feels too light… too close to slipping away from me entirely.
As soon as I lift, she gasps, body tensing against the shock of movement.
“I know,” I murmur, pulling her close, securing my coat tighter around her with one hand. “I’ve got you.”
“I saw the sign,” she whispers, shaking. “Thought it meant… I was almost home.”
I swallow against the ache in my throat. “You were. You are.”
I adjust my grip, tucking her face into my shoulder away from the wind. Then I hunch forward, turning my body into a shield.
“Jax?” she whispers after a few steps, voice raw.
