The snowcat shuddered, its last mechanical gasp swallowed by the wind. Saskia barely registered the dead silence before the headlights became more than pinpricks, solidifying into the twin beams of an armored scout. Morvan. They hadn't given up, not even in this maelstrom. “Out!” Saskia yelled, her voice raw over the shriek of the blizzard. “Now!” Bram, still clutching his salvaged hard drive, moved with a speed born of terror, scrambling over the seat. Calder, already swaying from the cold, his arm bleeding sluggishly from the grazing shot Vance had landed, pushed the emergency door open. The gale outside drove needle-sharp ice directly across their faces. “The cave,” Calder rasped, his words torn by the wind. He pointed a shaking hand towards a dark smudge on the mountain face, barely visible through the swirling powder. “Two hundred meters, southwest. An old Vulkari ore mine. Follow my tracks.” Saskia didn’t question it. Calder’s knowledge of this brutal landscape was their only compass. She shoved Bram forward, then practically dragged Calder, whose movements were growing sluggish, his skin already taking on a worrying pallor. Frost crusted Saskia's eyelashes within seconds, stiffening the fabric of her coat. Every step was a battle against the accumulating snow, against the wind that tried to rip them from their feet. They could hear the drone of the scout vehicle, closer now, its powerful engine a growing menace in the whiteout. The beams cut through the snow, sweeping erratically, getting closer to their abandoned snowcat. They needed to disappear. Now. Calder stumbled, a low groan escaping him. Saskia hooked her arm under his, practically lifting him. His heavy frame pulled her sideways into the drift, but she dug her boots in and dragged him forward. Bram, surprisingly, was still ahead, navigating with an almost animal instinct, a small, dark shadow against the vast white canvas. Finally, they reached the dark maw of the cave. A jagged crack split the black granite wall. The entrance was choked with snowdrifts, forcing them to crawl through a narrow, icy opening before dropping into a larger, relatively sheltered chamber. The roar of the wind dropped to a hollow whistling beyond the rocks. Saskia pushed Calder against a rough-hewn wall of rock, forcing him to sit. His lips were blue, his eyes glazed over. The bloodstain on his sleeve had darkened, freezing to the fabric. He shivered violently, uncontrollably. Hypothermia. It was setting in fast. “Bram, see if you can get power to the snowcat from here,” Saskia ordered, her voice surprisingly steady, despite the tremor in her hands. “Any power. I need it to move.” Bram, ever practical, pulled out his salvaged backpack, already rummaging for his multi-tool and the radio parts he’d stripped from Calder’s gear. He moved to a relatively dry ledge deeper in the cave, the faint glow of his handheld light creating dancing shadows on the rough walls. The hum of the scout outside was fading, the storm momentarily swallowing the sound. They had bought themselves minutes, perhaps an hour, but no more. Saskia turned back to Calder. His breathing was shallow, his eyes barely tracking her. “Calder? Can you hear me?” He nodded weakly, his teeth chattering so hard she could hear it over the low groan of the wind outside. His skin was like ice. “Cold,” he mumbled, his voice a ghost of its usual deep resonance. She ripped open his heavy parka, then her own. Her logical mind screamed at the vulnerability, at the sheer absurdity of what she was about to do. But her heart, for once, screamed louder. She pressed herself against him, skin to skin, wrapping her arms around his torso, pulling him close. His cold seeped into her, an immediate, shocking chill, but she held fast, willing her own dwindling warmth into his body. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder, the rough wool of his undershirt scraping her cheek. “You hear me? You’re going to be okay.” He shivered against her, a long, drawn-out tremor that wracked his entire frame. His good arm came up, slowly, painfully, to rest on her back, his fingers, stiff and cold, flexing against her jacket. “Saskia,” he breathed, the sound thin and fragile. “Don’t talk. Just… stay with me.” Her own body was screaming in protest at the cold, at the exhaustion, but she ignored it, focusing every atom of her being on him. She could feel the hard planes of his chest against her, the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart. Her ribs ached against his chest as the air hitched in her throat. “I… I don’t regret it,” he murmured, his voice a little stronger, though still ragged. “Facing Vance. I knew… you needed… time.” Saskia felt a sharp pang, a sensation entirely alien to her usual guarded existence. “You almost died,” she said, the words catching in her throat, devoid of any sarcasm. “You were so reckless. For us.” He made a sound that might have been a laugh, if he had the strength. “Worth it.” He shifted, his face turning towards hers, his icy breath a cloud between them. His pupils caught the amber scatter of Bram’s work light from across the floor. “You’re an idiot,” she managed, her voice thick. But her hands tightened on him, pulling him even closer, until their foreheads touched. The cold radiated from him, but a different kind of warmth was spreading through her, an aching tenderness she had fiercely denied for too long. “Maybe,” he agreed, his voice a low rumble now. “But you… you’re worth being an idiot for, Saskia.” She pressed her forehead against the damp wool at his collar, her throat tight with a fear she couldn't deflect with a joke. He held her gaze, breathing shallow bursts of vapor into the frozen gloom. Their faces were inches apart, the air between them sharp with cedar and copper. His gaze dropped to her lips, and the world narrowed to this single, desperate moment. Saskia leaned in, her own lips parting slightly, anticipation a dizzying rush. Just then, a brilliant, blinding flash erupted from Bram’s corner of the cave, followed by a crack like a thunderclap that echoed through the confined space. “Oops!” Bram’s voice, high-pitched with alarm, carried clearly. The loud noise was too much. A low rumble started, growing rapidly into a deafening roar. Dust and loose rock rained down from the ceiling. A massive crack spiderwebbed across the cave mouth, and with a groaning, splintering sound, the heavy rock face above the entrance began to give way, sending a torrent of stone and ice cascading down, instantly sealing the exit with an earth-shattering crash.

Frozen Hearts