Forgotten.
Alone.
Empty.
Numb.
The cold from outside settles into my heart. And I tremble so forcefully, my joints mold into an unbreakable position. Elbows hardly able to bend. Knees like metal grinding against each other.
I always thought being hot was the worst feeling. Sweating. Standing under a scalding sun. But it’s not. Not even close. Lying under a cave ceiling, creaking under the weight of hardening ice is much worse.
My brain starts to shut down in choppy increments.
Stay awake.
My eyes flutter like a candle flittering against someone trying to blow it out.
I look at the skin on my arms, it’s pale-bluish color. The agonizing pulses of cold air rolling over them.
Please, come find me, Mom. I won’t make it much longer.
“Spitfire,” Niklaus utters, gripping my elbow.
I jerk away.
But there’s an urgency in his touch. A pause of the shrill, whistling winds that permeate the cave opening. And his spine goes taut behind me, sitting up as he tries to get me to follow his gaze.
Coming from the mouth of the cave, an animal snarls, ripping through the void of shrieking winds and falling snow.
I flinch as much as my numb neck and limbs will allow and peel open my watering eyes to get a better look.
White wolves. Seven of them. A full pack. And they aren’t small either. Not as big as DaiSzek, but still, quite large.
“Come—here,” he stammers once more.
I can’t find it in my frozen brain to argue. Freezing to death is one thing. But being mauled by hungry wolves is another. I shimmy back against his bare skin, now lacking any body heat he had before. We’re cold flesh pressed against cold flesh, watching the pack with watering eyes as we wait for their next move.
Foggy air chuffs from their snouts.
They seem to linger in place, unfazed by the shooting squalls of flurries beating against their heavy coats of fur.
Another minute passes.
“Could—they be—”
“From—Stormsage?” Niklaus finishes.
As they approach, they don’t stalk forward with lowered necks and predatory eyes. Their ears press back, and their tails starts to wag back and forth. A whooshing breath of relief leaves my tightening lungs as they lie down around us, snuggling against our bodies to create a warm cocoon of white fur and warm bodies.
“W-what aretheyd-doing?” I ask.
“Saving us.”
8. Help Has a Name
The thick fur under myfingertips reminds me of DaiSzek.
When I was nine, I fell through the plate of ice on the surface of the frozen lagoon. DaiSzek pulled me out and curled his gigantic body around me to keep the hypothermia at bay. That’s what these wolves remind me of. We did not ask them to keep us warm. They just are.
