Sember (Forestfolk, Book 2)

Chapter 12

By midday, the snow had stopped falling, and we were far enough away from the compound to stop for a break. We tore into our food supply like ravenous coyotes. Apparently, getting dragged out of bed, pretending to burn at the stake, and subsequently running for our lives was hungry work.

The clouds broke, allowing the sun to peek through in places, but Goben remained huddled in his cloak as we walked. The blanket of fresh snow on the ground made for a welcome cushion to my bare feet, and also soothed the little cuts I had gotten from my mad dash out of the barbecue.

If the tribe compound was the halfway point, then we still had a week of walking ahead of us. I didn’t voice this thought because I didn’t want to discourage Goben. The first week had been grueling enough, and now that it was cold and snowy, I had a feeling the second leg of our journey would be much more challenging.

* * *

The next three days went by without incident. The small trail remained visible as an indentation in the snowy landscape, and we made sure not to stray from it. At night, Goben slept with both cloaks on top of his blanket, and that kept him warm enough. Billowing clouds continued to float northeast, and we were thankful for the respite from snow. Well, my feet weren’t. The thin blanket of snow from the last storm had melted, leaving the ground mucky and disgusting. My bare feet squelched into random mudholes, and I had to grit my teeth against the nasty feeling of sludge oozing between my toes.

I came this close to demanding that Goben give me his shoes, but I didn’t. The cut high on his forehead reminded me that he’d risked getting beaten to death trying to protect me, so I stayed quiet and kept on squelching.

The next day was another story. The clouds darkened again, temperatures dropped, and the breeze changed direction. We eyed the sky warily and began to walk faster when the wind picked up. By late afternoon, the wind gusted, and light flurries began fluttering to the ground. I spotted a sizable tree on the horizon and we headed toward it.

I learned that, in freezing temperatures, mud no longer squelched. It formed a skin of ice across its surface, which fractured when you stepped on it. Every time the thin ice cracked underfoot, pain lanced through my foot, so I did my best to avoid the worst of it.

By the time we reached the tree, the flurries fell more steadily. It wasn’t a huge tree, but it was our best shot at shelter. I scavenged a few nuts that had fallen to the ground, then we laid out our bedrolls side by side against the base of the tree.

With no way to build an actual shelter, all we could do was stack our blankets and cloaks on top of us and huddle for warmth. We tucked the edges around us so the wind wouldn’t blow our covers away. We lay there facing each other for a while, listening to the wind whistling outside our cocoon.

“Goben, when we get back home, you’re getting me a brand-new bedroll.”

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“I’m getting mud all over it. My feet are so gross.”

“I’m sorry, Sember. I can’t believe I forgot your shoes.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll just owe me big when we get home.”

He chuckled. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

In the morning, the wind died down. We had actually managed to fall asleep. When we peeled back our covers, a thick layer of snow covered us.

“I wonder if this is how Icelings sleep?” Goben mused. “Nirrin says that someone told her they sleep inside snow banks and live on a diet of fish and icebergs.”

I guffawed. Nirrin and her stories.

After a quick meal, we shoveled powdery snow into our water skins and tucked them into our waistbands so it would melt. Our food supplies were getting low. On the bright side, that meant our packs were lighter.

The snow resumed once we got underway, but the wind remained mostly calm. The snow on the ground was so light that the smallest meandering breeze would kick up fascinating swirls of it into the air. This didn’t last, though. By midday, the wind picked up again, and Goben ended up wearing both cloaks. By afternoon, the wind howled. A full-on blizzard had moved in.

Snow blew in all directions. Not only could I not tell where the sun was, I couldn’t tell where anything was. We were stuck in a surreal, bitterly cold, blinding whirlwind of white. There were no trees. I had to expend a lot more energy than I expected just to keep warm.

A shiver ran through me, catching me by surprise. Goben fared much worse, teeth chattering as he hunched against the howling wind. We couldn’t continue in this. I began to question how wise it was to head this far north during winter.

We had no choice but to hunker down next to a small clump of bushes. We huddled together on our bedrolls, tightly holding down the edges of our cloaks and blankets, desperately trying to keep them from flying away. The wind buffeted us and I tried to situate myself to block Goben from it. Most of all, I had to concentrate on providing enough heat to keep him warm without burning our covers.

It was harder than I had imagined. I’d never been in these conditions before. Wind crept through the crevices, and the cold air stole away much of the heat I was generating, so it was difficult for me to gauge how much I had to compensate. I mostly went by Goben’s shivering. The more he shook, the more heat I created. The constant modulation was tiring.

The storm blew for hours. We drank water, but there was no chance for sleep. By far, the most harrowing part of it all was the constant battering of the wind, threatening to carry us away. All we could do was huddle and wait. It was easily the most exhausting day I’d ever had.

When the blustering wind finally slowed, I ventured a peek outside. Everything was white. Snowdrifts snaked along the landscape, peaking here and there. The bushes that sheltered us were no longer visible. Worst of all, we were almost out of daylight. Even if the winds did not return, temperatures would plummet once the sun went down.

It was going to be a long night.

We wrapped the covers tightly around ourselves, and for once, Goben didn’t protest our close proximity. He lay on his side, curling his legs up into a fetal position. I settled behind him, doing my best to wrap around him like a blanket. His survival depended on me, and I was not going to let him down.

I wouldn’t sleep. At least, that’s what I told myself. Sometimes I dozed off, only to be woken up by his shivering. I had to consciously radiate heat to keep him warm, otherwise my body only regulated enough to keep me warm. Needless to say, it wasn’t a very restful night.

* * *

When morning finally arrived, I was reluctant to get up. My muscles didn’t want to move, so I dozed off again. It was Goben who stirred first.

“Sember, we should get going,” he said gently.

I groaned. Spending hours and hours trying to keep my brother warm in the middle of a raging blizzard had taken its toll. Even my bones felt tired.

“Come on, Squirrel. Before the next storm hits.”

I sighed and pushed myself up. “I used to like winter.”

We shook snow off the blankets and packed them away, then I dug into the last of my food. I was ready to chew my arm off I was so hungry. I had expended so much energy and slept so little. This village had better not be much farther, because our supplies were about to run out.

More walking. The powdery texture of the snow felt pleasant underfoot, but the cold affected me now. My face tingled, and the freezing air irritated my lungs. This worried me. I had never in my life actually felt cold.

Another half day passed, thankfully blizzard-free. The sky remained gray and ominous. My next worry was that we might be heading in the wrong direction. With no landmarks, and the trail buried under snow, it was easy to veer the wrong way. Dozan had said we would be getting close when we saw mountains. He actually had to describe mountains to me because I’d never seen them before. Their immensity sounded like nothing I’d ever encountered, or even imagined, but I still saw no sign of them.

Then, by late afternoon, I found them. They were hazy gray ghosts in the distance, rising up from the white landscape. They didn’t look real, but there they were. Relief warmed my thoughts. Maybe we would reach the village today!

* * *

We didn’t. We walked as far as the daylight would allow, but the mountains never seemed to come any closer. I began to wonder if maybe they were painted into the sky. Then I wondered if maybe I was the slightest bit delirious.

After another bitterly cold night of half-dozing, we resumed our trek in the morning. Goben and I split his last piece of dried meat, and I filled my still-grumbling stomach with water to quell its displeasure. We had better reach this place soon.

The mountains finally seemed to be getting bigger. Dozan had said that the village was nestled in the valley between two distinctive peaks. I scanned the jagged formations ahead of us, which I could now see were white with snow like everything else. Two neighboring peaks stood above the rest, while the gap between them dipped low. That had to be it.

Thankful to finally have a concrete landmark, we headed toward that valley with renewed vigor. We crunched through the snow, eyes fixed on our destination. We would reach it today. We had to.

During our midday break, I noticed the breeze getting stronger. My heart sank. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to deal with another snowstorm. We barely made it through the last one. By late afternoon it was gusty and blew the loose powder up off the ground.

The swirling patterns of flurries, once so beautiful, now irked me. I hated snow. I hated this always-gray weather. I hated that Goben was always cold, and that I was the only thing standing between him and hypothermia. But what I hated most at this very moment was feeling weak. I’ve never felt weak. Yet here I was, feeling drained and wobbly. The only thing keeping me going was the sheer determination to just get there.

The darker it got, the windier it became. The mountains were looming behemoths now. I thought I could make out wisps of smoke rising from the valley, but I might have imagined it. Snow blew everywhere. It was in my hair, my eyes, my ears, down my shirt. Goben had both cloaks pulled tightly around him, and I found myself shivering just a little. I imagined yanking one of the cloaks away and donning it myself.

No. I would keep myself warm. What good was a Gifted fire user if I couldn’t even do that?

I am fiery and strong. I am made of heat. I repeated this to myself as we marched single-mindedly toward the valley.

Daylight was nearly gone and we weren’t there yet. To my dismay, it was getting harder to see past all the snow blowing in our faces. Goben pointed at something. I stared hard, and was barely able to make out the shape of a structure. My hope surged.

And so did the wind. It became a battle—us versus the elements. The elements were a tough opponent, pushing and freezing us. My legs wobbled, and Goben pulled me close to him. We slogged forward as one. I felt his strength and determination propelling us. We would get there. Even though my own strength was failing me, we would get there.

I had always thought my energy to be boundless. Not once had I ever come close to depleting it. Not once. Not even with all the running, practicing, and burning. I didn’t even think it was possible. But today, in this growing blizzard, I felt it. My energy waned to a tiny burble. All I had was a little bit of heat left, and a whole lot of resolve.

We plodded, one step after another, barely able to see. When the thickness of night settled in, I began to panic. We wouldn’t survive the night out here. Not in another storm. I strained to see into the darkness, through the flying slush.

Then I saw it, a flicker of torchlight. We were nearly there. Just a little farther.

I am fiery and strong. I am made of heat.

My feet stumbled, and I nearly toppled us both.

I am fiery and strong. I am made of heat.

And then, finally, at long last, we stood in front of a wooden door.