We leave alcove, ascending switchbacks etched into stone. The world tilts into deeper night; stars multiply, crowding sky. Sometimes time pockets flare—our footprints drifting forward before boots land. Carmilla marks them with quick glyphs, sealing momentary tears.
Hours smear together in whispered breaths and crunch of snow. Once she stumbles—loose scree—but catches self before rope tightens. Pride flickers across her face. I nod approval; she rolls eyes, exasperated yet amused.
Ahead, ridge narrows again. I halt, raising palm. Scent—sharp, metallic. Not lynx. Something larger. Bear maybe, but tinged with realm-rot. I crouch, studying snow. Tracks—large padded feet ending in claws far longer than mountain bear’s. Footprints rimed with faint green glow.
Carmilla kneels beside me. “Another breach?”
“Likely.” I straighten. “But trail veers left before its den.” I mark route on sky with gesture. “We circle.”
She looks exhausted—cheeks hollow, eyes ringed by frost lashes. Yet determination glints. “Lead on.”
We skirt tracks, hugging stone. At narrow pass we cling to face, creeping across ice slats. Rope taut. Wind howls beneath, plucking at cloak edges. I anchor claws in cracks, hauling us one slow step at a time.
Halfway across, snowcrust breaks under her boot. She slips. Rope jerks tight, wrenching harness into my waist. Muscles flare; I pitch weight backward into rock, claws sparking. Momentum halts. She dangles, boots scrabbling.
“Hold still,” I say, voice low against wind.
“Not going anywhere,” she answers, surprisingly calm.
I haul rope, inch by inch. She plants toes on ledge, pushes. Together we regain surface. She sags against stone, breaths shaky.
“Apologies,” she whispers.
“Ridge tests everyone.” I check harness knots. “You pass.”
She laughs—a breathy, tired sound. “Flattery from alpha?”
“Fact.” I squeeze her shoulder, then release. Contact lingers like quick pulse in veins.
We reach broader ledge, collapse onto packs. Snow falls thicker, each flake bigger than thumbnail. I judge sky. Storm brewing; we need shelter soon.
Carmilla studies horizon. “Cave network half league ahead. My map remembers.”
I nod. “We push.” I shoulder pack, help her stand. She stiffens but accepts hand.
As we move, thoughts churn again. Protect her. Purge shard. Save pack. But something new slips between beats: trust her. She has earned that much this night.
Hours later cave mouth yawns in cliff—a black arch rimmed with frost teeth. I draw torch, step inside first. Air still, faintly warm. Volcanic vent perhaps. Good refuge.
We settle, start small fire. Carmilla spreads cloak, sits cross-legged. Lattice glows faint blue, quiet. She extracts Yarrow’s twig flute, passes it to me. “For vigil.”
My throat tightens. I hold tiny instrument, wood polished by cub fingers. I lift to lips, breathe soft note. It cracks, but melody finds shape—simple lullaby.
Carmilla listens, eyes half closed. Crystal lines ripple with music as if soothed. I play until flames gutter low, until snowstorm outside roars like ocean surf.
Eventually she lies down. I sit watch, dagger across knees, listening to wind and pulse of shard dulled by her earlier spell.Respect for her courage thrums heavy. She fights decay more fiercely than most warriors fight for life.
I glance at sleeping oracle; moonbeam through cave crack kisses her silver hair, turning it to liquid starlight across pelts. The ember stripes in my fur flicker with desire to guard this fragile strength.
Protect her. Purge shard. Save pack. New vow threads through the mantra: stand beside her when morning claws open the sky.
I settle deeper into vigil, ready for what monsters the storm might drop at our door, heart steady in the dark.
7
CARMILLA
Snow thunders overhead, hammering the broken bridge that roofs our cave in jagged ribs of stone. I listen with half an ear, counting the intervals between wind gusts the way sailors measure waves. Kylan keeps watch near the entrance, wolf-height silhouette cut against a canvas of swirling white. Flamelight from our small fire splashes faint copper across his back, revealing muscle bands coiled beneath fur-trim cloak.
