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“I wish we could make a fire,” I grumbled, kicking the snow in search of something that would burn. The chance of finding anything was slim. Anything that would’ve burned had turned to ash and blown away a long time ago. The Fires That Cleanse may not have rid the planet of all organic matter as intended, but they had undoubtedly claimed anything that could be used as kindling. Why hadn’t I brought a portable solar dish?
“I’m fine,” she mumbled.
Her blue lips said otherwise.
At last weekend’s market, Sisip had mentioned that the enforcer patrols had observed caves here but hadn’t yet explored them. Now seemed like the perfect time, before other parts of Ginger turned blue.
“We need to find shelter.” I peered at the cloudless sky, grasping for an excuse that Ginger might swallow. “The weather’s going to turn.” Judging by how she rolled her eyes, she wasn’t convinced. When I shouldered my bag and then hers, she let out a breath of air that sent her black bangs puffing above her eyes.
“If you say so.” She trudged off through the snow, taking the lead up the mountain with dogged determination.
Each time she found a good spot, she paused to pull a snare free from my belt and placed it alongside our dubious trail. The constant contact drove me to distraction. One gust of wind or snowfall and the trapline would be covered. We plodded on and on until her steps turned sluggish and her fingers could no longer work the snares.
“Here.” I filled another container with warm, minty drink and passed it to Ginger, where she huddled against a large boulder. The steam from the container and the frosted air from her breath were the same color as her silvery-white hair. The stark colors heightened the shadows under her eyes.
The need to find her shelter pressed down on me. “I’m going to investigate the dark spot over that ridge.” I pointed to the west, where a narrow band of trees hid the mountain.
The sky darkened as she bent to shoulder her bag, and snow began to fall in wet, heavy splats. The groan she tried to muffle was the last straw. I placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Rest. I’ll be right back.” Then I took off at a fast jog, little balls of snow curling in my tracks with each foot lifted.
I heard her mutter, “I’m such an idiot.”
She must’ve thought I was out of hearing range. I glanced back. Her face was buried in her palms. Blant, I renewed my efforts to find cover, pushing faster than was safe over the uneven ground.
Beyond the scraggly trees, a slotted entrance appeared, easily missed if approached from any other angle. “Bless the goddess Sola,” I muttered.
Urgency pulsed through my veins. Worse dangers than succumbing to the cold lurked in these mountains, and Ginger was a tiny, defenseless female. It went against every Rock Dweller instinct I had to leave her alone. Have her long eye hairs frozen her eyes shut? Has she fallen into a crevasse? After a rudimentary scan to assess the cave for signs of hellsna, Iclambered back down the steep incline before I could imagine any more worst-case scenarios.
On the return trip, the wind picked up, and snow fell in slanted sheets, covering my trail. Icy needles pelted my head as I wove between the young trees, slipping over the uneven ground.
When Ginger—head wrapped in a fuzzy swath of fabric that extended around her face—came into view, I sighed.
“So happy you could join me.” I could tell by her put-out tone that her nose would be scrunched if I removed her covering. She continued, “I was just about to return to the hoverbike without you.”
She was going to do what? Even I’d struggle to get back to the hoverbike in this low visibility. I swallowed back the reprimand on the tip of my tongue while I checked my wristport. Only half a sun had passed, but in that time, the little jungle cat had extended her claws. She was scared.
“I’ve decided to leave it to Makir to trap more linobee when he returns.” She tilted her chin up and pressed her shivering shoulders back.
Didn’t I say that exact blanting thing earlier?
We stood side by side, yet I could barely see her. The snow whipped its icy tendrils at us from every direction.
“I’m ready to go home.” Her voice wavered.
My frustration melted at her distress, and I took a moment to strip my words of blame. “You’ll freeze on the ride back. We have to get you warm first.”
When her fingers trembled as she reached for her gear, I snapped. Wrenching our bags off the ground, I slammed them over my shoulder and advanced toward her. She staggered backward, but I caught her and scooped her rigid body into my arms. She fit perfectly, even more so when I hugged her to my chest, and she remained quiet outside of her initial squeak as I marched across the mountain’s side.
A deafening crack from above had me tightening my grip. A shiver ran down my spine. Not now. The last time I’d heard that sound, it had ended with three of my soldiers nearly buried alive.
Ginger clutched my jacket, her head tilting wildly toward the mountainside. “Fuck! Avalanche!”
Debris rained down on us like shrapnel, and I curled my larger body around hers like a shield. Each lurching stride I took was done on instinct alone. The mountain stirred to life. Angry at being awoken, it rumbled and groaned, throwing loose rocks that lashed at my exposed head and firing lethal sheets of snow toward us.
“Watch out for the tree!” Ginger’s mittened hand jerked toward the ground, and I leaped over churned-up roots, staggering over the softened ground. Mud splattered my face, and my vision blurred.
“Left, JayJay,” Ginger shouted over the rumble as I narrowly missed another wave of debris. “Duck,” she warned, tugging on my ear as a boulder screamed overhead.
