An Angel In The Snow

I’ve never known cold like this before… at least, I don’t think I have. I can’t remember what warmth felt like. The sun is out, but its golden light feels icy against my skin. Everything hurts, even breathing. My chest is too tight, and the air I force into my lungs is too sharp. A sore stiffness has seeped into my bones, and I want it all to go away. The cold, the air, the sun, the pain that fills me; I want it to stop.

My eyes flutter shut, frozen droplets clinging to my eyelashes as the world slips in and out of the blackness. I’m a wolf; I should have better survival instincts than this. But I can’t think about surviving right now. Not when every fiber of my being screams in pain and I can barely move. The cold burns me, and everything is so heavy. I want the dark emptiness to wrap around me like an embrace, and I can almost feel myself drifting into it. It would be as easy as falling asleep.

A soft weight covers my torso. I’m so cold and tired; for a second, my body instinctively assumes it’s a blanket. But it’s too heavy to be a blanket, too lively. The weight shifts over me, and I can hear the sound of snow crunching. Something warm and wet slides over my face and then nuzzles my neck. If I had the strength to move, I would brush it away. I don’t want to be woken. I want to go back to sleep or back to whatever that blackness with no pain is. But I can’t lift my hand. I can’t lift my eyelids anymore, and the heat and pressure persist. How can relief be so painful? I’m too far frozen to enjoy the warmth that slowly creeps into me.

I must be dreaming. This is all some horrible nightmare. It’s the only explanation. I can’t logically feel the things I’m feeling. My thawing blood pulses slow and reluctantly, and it feels like shards of glass running in my veins.

I’d like to say I handled myself well. I wish I could tell you I put on a brave face and thanked whoever or whatever was nursing life and heat back into my frozen self. But the cold is merciless, and pain like that leaves no room for courage. All I can do is breathe, forcing more ashy air into my lungs, willing oxygen to flow however it can inside me. I don’t know how much time passes. I come in and out of consciousness as ice crunches, and someone moves around me.

Then a hand wraps itself around my throat. The touch is gentle and warm, and I feel my skin melting against it as someone’s fingers rest under my chin for a few moments. There it is, so soft it’s barely noticeable: a pulse. With every rhythmic thump, it whispers that I am alive.

I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m still here. Wherever here is.

I part my lips slightly, taking in more air.

“Thank the Goddess,” someone whispers.

The voice is deep and hushed. I don’t recognize it. Everything feels foreign and far away. I struggle to open my eyes, and the world is too bright. The sunlight hurts, and I blink several times to clear my vision, but everything remains a blur. How is the sky so blue? It’s all too much. I’m dizzy from the effort of being conscious, from the effort of being alive.

A figure stands above me, but I can’t make it out. His silhouette looms over me against the brightness of the sky. As my eyes adjust, I realize the sky is not as brilliant and blue as I’d thought. It’s clouded. Wait, no. Those aren’t clouds. It’s smoke. I try to glance around at my surroundings. I still can’t see clearly, and I can’t find the source of the smoke, but even in such a state, I can make out the splashes of red surrounding me.

I’m bleeding.

I’m not the only one.

Around me are shards of metal. Unidentifiable clumps and lumps of grey and silver are littered on the floor. And bodies. I don’t know how many. Too many. I’m surrounded by death. I want to get a better look and see if I recognize anyone, but I can’t remember the faces I’m searching for, and everything is so hazy. I want to speak, but I don’t know what to say, and I don’t have the voice to say it.

“Shhhh, don’t try to talk,” says the silhouette. “Save your strength, little wolf; you’re going to need it. Just stay alive for me.”

I want to. I really do. But as he wraps his arms around me, I’m hit by a new wave of pain, and everything goes dark.

When my senses start to come back, I’m not on the ground anymore. I’m still cold and wet and dying, but at least I’m not on the ground anymore. I’m being carried. I can feel someone’s arms wrapped around me, holding me close. Even with the cold, the embrace is comforting, almost familiar. I force my eyes open with some effort, my frozen tears cracking on my skin. The silhouette from before has become a boy.

He looks only a few years older than me, and he keeps coming in and out of focus. It takes a few minutes for my pounding head to figure out that he’s running. He’s pulled me so close against him that his skin thaws my own. In a world of ice and snow and pain, he is everything warm. My cheek is pressed against his bare chest, and I can hear his heart racing. His handsome expression is contorted into a concerned grimace, and I want to trace the lines on his face with my fingertips, but I can barely move.

His glacier blue eyes glance down at me, and relief flickers over his worried gaze when he sees me conscious, but he doesn’t slow down.

“Angel?” I mutter, my eyelids growing heavy. Everything is bright and beautiful, and excruciating. “I don’t want to go.”

I feel myself fading again.

“You won’t. You’re not going to die, little wolf. I won’t let you go.”

Then, nothing.