River lay on his stomach, his blankets forming a haphazard cocoon around him. He muttered something as I settled beside him, a crease forming between his eyes. Something was troubling him—a fragment of a dream, perhaps. The blood from the ravens’ talons had run down the side of his face before it dried. He flinched as I wiped it off, gently. Given the depth of the marks, there was little doubt he would have a scar there. Shaking my head, I lay down and was soon fast asleep.
When I opened my eyes, all was quiet. River breathed softly a few feet away. The wind moaned over the mountainside. Something had woken me—but what?
My dreams had been filled with ghosts—or rather, ghostly hands, seizing at my chuba and dragging me toward the brink of an abyss. Mingma was there, watching from a distance, the remorse on his face as sharp as broken glass.
I rubbed my eyes. Now I had new monsters to haunt my sleep, as if the fiangul weren’t enough.
Ragtooth stood near the mouth of the cave, his back to me, fur standing on end. Tension was written in every line of his body. I called to him, but he didn’t move a muscle. The back of my neck prickled.
Then the rumbling started. The entire cave shook, bits of loose rock twitching across the ground like insects. River started, his head jerking up.
“Where is it?” he said nonsensically. His cheek showed the imprint of his blanket.
The rumbling began to subside. I loosened my grip on my knees. I had been squeezing them so tight my fingernails would have left marks.
“That was an avalanche,” I said faintly. “And it was close.”
“Too close.” River was fully alert now. He tossed his blankets back and yanked on his boots.
I followed him outside. A towering cloud of ice crystals had descended on our little camp, dusting the tent Mara and Lusha had erected against the rock face. Lusha was only half-visible, standing at the edge of the camp and squinting out into the chaos.
“Lusha!” I shouted. There came another rumble, quieter than the last. Lusha saw me, and came hurrying back.
“Mara went to scout out the route to the north face,” she said. A net of snow covered her hair, and her expression was stern, pinched. It was a look I had seen only rarely—Lusha was frightened.
I felt cold. “Mara is out there?”
“Yes. He took Tem with him.”
“What?” I started forward, but River grabbed my arm.
“Hold on,” he said, turning back to Lusha. “How long have they been gone?”
“Half an hour—maybe more. They were heading for the ridge.”
“This should clear quickly, with the wind.” River squinted up at the mountain’s peak, which was invisible through the cloud. “But there may be another one coming.”
Tem. Panic rose inside me like a clawed thing. “We have to go after them.”
“We will,” Lusha said, her tone reassuring. Her expression, though, was still pinched, pale.
River whistled. “Azar-at, bring my pack.”
Lusha opened her mouth as if to protest, but I grabbed her shoulder and shook her. “Lusha, there’s no time! We need his help.”
Her mouth closed in a tight line. She glanced up at the mountain, seeming to fight with something inside herself. After a moment, narrowing her eyes at River, she gave a jerky nod.
“We’ll have to use snowshoes,” River said. “It won’t be—”
Another distant rumble. The panic that had been rising overwhelmed me—I could hardly think. I threw off River’s arm and ran. The ice crystals hanging in the air stung my face, my throat, my eyes. I didn’t care—I ran on.
Up ahead, the snow cloud was beginning to settle. I could see now that the avalanche had slid right past us, tumbling down the snowy slope beside the rock face and down the mountain. It was probably still falling toward the valley floor.
Suddenly, I stumbled over something warm and soft, with the texture of dandelion seeds. I landed facedown in a snowdrift and surfaced coughing on a lungful of ice.
You must wait, brave one, Azar-at said. The fire demon’s ears were pricked, alert. Not safe to wander alone.
“I don’t care.” I stumbled to my feet, ready to set off again. But suddenly, River and Lusha were there, roped together, both wearing snowshoes.
“Rope,” River said. Lusha handed him a coil unquestioningly. He looped it around my waist and secured it to the rope he wore. Lusha, meanwhile, attached a pair of snowshoes to my feet, her hands moving so quickly I could barely distinguish each motion. Within seconds, they were both done.
“Lead,” Lusha said, and River nodded. She set out first, followed by River and Azar-at. I was left to trot along behind them like an obedient child.
“Why can’t I lead?” I demanded. They both ignored me.
We strode on at a punishing pace in our heavy snowshoes. I was soon panting, and only through sheer force of will was I able to leave any slack between myself and River. The last few days had taken a toll on me, and lack of sleep didn’t help. We trekked up a steep snowbank River and I had investigated the day before, and along the ridge Lusha had indicated. The land fell away on our left, breathtakingly steep. With every minute that passed I felt my panic increase.
It doesn’t matter, I told myself over and over. He could still be alive. I had been buried by an avalanche once, spending several long minutes in an air pocket beneath the snow before Lusha found me. Tem could be in the same situation. He could even now be counting each breath he took, rationing the air in the hopes that someone would find him in time.
I clung to that image, shoved the terror down until it was a heavy weight at the pit of my stomach, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
One breath. Another.
The snow was treacherous—loose and slippery, clinging precariously to the slope of the mountain. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but even I tried to avoid looking down more than was necessary. The slope here was sharp, and if anyone put a foot wrong, there was absolutely nothing to stop them from tumbling down and down the mountainside, except the ground. This was far enough away to be separated from us by wispy clouds.
Lusha and River paused several times to confer about the route. They didn’t bother to include me in the conversation, and as much as I resented it, I couldn’t blame them. I had little experience with avalanches, at least on this side of them. Lusha, on the other hand, had taken part in several rescue missions on Azmiri with Father—as the future elder, she needed to know how to respond to emergencies.
“Hurry up,” I nearly screamed as they paused for what felt like the hundredth time. Every moment was precious. Didn’t they understand that?
River glanced my way. He muttered something to Lusha, and they set off again, moving faster despite the risk.
Azar-at trotted ahead of us, nosing the ground. He paused suddenly, burying his entire head in the snow.
“What is it?” I demanded. “Does he sense something?”
River gazed at the snow, his lips pursed. He cocked his head to one side, as if listening to something. The seconds went by. The sight of our breath, rising in clouds, was a torment to me.
“River!” I grabbed his arm.
“This way,” he said. Azar-at was already moving, uphill this time. The incline was punishing, and we leaned forward onto our hands to maintain our hold on the mountainside. Occasionally, there were rocks and boulders mixed in with the snow. I tried not to focus on these.