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It’s a calm night, the moon now completely hidden within the shadows of the clouds. I can hear the snowfall as it hits the earth, though, as still as the night itself. With each flake hitting my face, I feel a chill as a short storm blows through this already miserable night. As if it could get any worse.

I’m not sure how much time goes by. Every time I drift off, my head hangs to the side, waking me up only so I can whip it back up. Alerting myself once again.

I guess I want to live, after all.

I listen to the sounds around me to bring myself some comfort. Just like I did with Micah. I used to listen to the snow, and he would tease me about it and say it was impossible for the human ear to hear a snowflake fall to the ground. I argued that it wasn’t a single snowflake but a million snowflakes falling at once. How could you not hear it?

He would smile at me like I was an idiot, but then he would explain all the sounds of the forest. Describe every bird’s call. Make me listen while he annoyingly told me what insects each bird eats. He would go on about it for an hour while I secretly listened to the snow and pretended to care. But really, I would stare at him, so happy he was showing me a part of himself that I knew he never showed anyone else.

Another whisper hits the air.

Another voice.

“London.” I whip my eyes open but can’t see anything, just shadow, darkness, and spring snow. A ghost, probably of one of the fallen. I’m no doubt hallucinating the tall figure standing before me—the Grim Reaper finally coming to claim me. Either that, or it’s Nigel again, and I’m not sure which one is worse.

“Get away from me.” I scramble back and kick at him, my foot connecting with flesh.

“Fuck you! That hurt.”

Ezra!

I take a moment to decipher if it’s really him, not trusting myself anymore. I blink a few times, and he puts his hand on my arm to settle me. “What are you doing?” I ask him.

“I came to get you.”

I sniffle and wipe the wetness dripping off my nose. “Why?”

“Because you’re useless to me if you die of hypothermia. You’re coming with me.”

I cock my head at him. “Does Nigel know you’re doing this?”

“No, and he won’t… Not yet, anyway. Get up. He’ll be gone until morning.”

I have so many questions, but I don’t linger. He helps me up, and as my knees weaken and my hand throbs, I fall into his arms.

I stare up at the dark outline of the steep rock wall in front of me. He jumped right in here and landed straight on his feet. That’s something I could imagine Micah doing. It must be an athlete thing. I forgot how good of an athlete Ezra was, too.

He crouches on all fours. “Stand on my back and pull yourself up.”

My eyes widen, but I don’t argue. I stand on his back, and as unsteady as I am, he is a firm anchor beneath me. I can barely reach the top, but it’s enough to grip the rock with my good hand. I need to use both hands, but I don’t think I can. The pain is immeasurable.

“Shit,” I cry out as I fall behind him, landing right on my tailbone. “My hand… I can’t.”

He grinds his teeth together and shakes his head in frustration. “Fuck, fine. Come here.”

He wraps his hands around my knees and hoists me up. I’m higher this time, and he positions himself underneath me. I’m able to get a steady footing on his shoulders and a better grip to, hopefully, pull myself up.

Ezra moves faster. He isn’t nice about it as he crouches and hurls me up over the rock, where I slam into the slimy ground.

“Fuck,” I yell at him. “Do you have to be so rough?”

I’m still on the ground as he pulls himself up effortlessly, even with his lame hand. A commonality we apparently have.

He grabs my elbow and leads me through the dark. “Come on, my shelter’s this way.”

His shelter? So they do live here, in the most hellish part of the island.

This should be interesting.