“But you have no answer to the ‘decrepit metal’ or ‘career down’ accusations.”
Her lips thinned out, and she inhaled to begin her prepared arguments. But before she could, he brusquely shook his head and leaned back against the wood. “It’s not as if I’ll dissuade you,” he said.
She smiled. “Quite true.”
His gaze lingered on her expression for a long moment before he looked away, that expressionless mask of his firmly back in place.
She stuck out one leg and pushed to move the sled forward until they were teetering on the edge of the slope. The world lay before her, veiled thickly in snow. An unfamiliar exhilaration juddered through her bones as the sled slowly tipped beneath her. The world seemed to hold its breath; everything was frozen and glittering and full of possibility. And then they tilted all the way forward, and flew.
The wind was a roaring beast, flinging snow like grit against her skin, frosting her lips and cheeks. The landscape was a cacophony of gray and white and speed. She squinted through the ice that had begun to coat her eyelashes, trying to keep her gaze—and the sled—trained on the spot where the cave was bored into the mountainside. Behind her, the wood rattled in its pile, and a few pieces slipped out before Tal threw out an arm to secure the rest.
The exhilaration strengthened. She felt odd up here—deliciously powerful and utterly out of control at the same time. The feeling was alien but amazing. A wild laugh rioted its way out of her, and then she gave in wholly and whooped a shouted cheer.
The sled began to twist sideways. Behind her, Tal growled a curse and thrust one arm down into the snow to try to slow them and right their angle of descent. But they were moving too fast, and the effort nearly tore him from his seat.
Elodie risked taking her eyes off their path to throw a glance back to her passenger. “Stop that!” she shouted. “You’ll hurt yourself!”
“I am aware,” he called through gritted teeth, and did not withdraw his hand.
He began to slip sideways. Elodie quickly calculated their trajectory and speed. They were quite close to the cave now, and although they’d slowed somewhat, if Tal fell off he was certain to further worsen his injuries. With her own shouted curse, she made a decision.
Letting go of the rope that she’d been clutching, she lunged backwards, wrapping her arms around Tal. The movement sent the sled into a wild spin that flung them both off—but she twisted around so that she hit the snow first, with him landing atop her, cushioned from the worst of the blow.
They skidded down the slope, with Elodie just barely managing to avoid a head-over-heels tumble that would surely harm Tal. He was rigid in her arms, so much that she worried the crash had already jarred him into further injury. She dug the heels of her boots into the snow to slow them down until they finally came to a halt. The mountainside loomed only a few yards away, a slab of slate gray through the sheet of blowing snow. The cave was a dark, gaping maw in its side.
“What,” said Tal, in a low and dangerous voice, “are you doing?”
She eased him off of her and stood up, brushing the snow from her clothes before it could melt through. “Saving your life,” she snapped, exasperated. “Again. Though I suspect I’d be a fool to expect gratitude.”
“Stop touching me.”
“Of course, I will respect your wishes,” she bit out, raising her voice to be heard above the wind. “Enjoy walking the rest of the way to the cave by yourself on a broken leg.”
She glanced around for the sled. It was coming to a stop not too far away, but all of their precious firewood was now scattered across the lower third of the slope. She’d have to hurry in order to gather it back up before the weather buried it or made navigation impossible. Then she squinted, pausing in her assessment. A smear of red was moving across the snow. A fox—rusty-crimson, with patches of white winter fur coming in—was darting away. The bundle of hare meat dangled from its mouth.
“No!” Elodie shouted, charging through the snow at the creature. She waved her arms madly, hoping to scare it away. “Drop that this instant!” The recalcitrant fox did not obey, instead breaking into a faster lope, and within moments vanished within the veil of the oncoming blizzard.
Elodie stormed back to where Tal was attempting to ease himself to standing. He didn’t look up at her, only asked, “Am I correct in assuming that fox just made off with our entire store of food?”
“Yes. I despise wildlife.”
He nodded and continued trying to push himself off the snow. His face was grim and beaded with sweat. She wasn’t sure what that indicated, but knew enough to understand that sweating in a snowstorm couldn’t possibly be a good sign. Frustrated with his obstinance, she thought quickly, trying to come up with some way to convince him to allow her to help. Earlier he had sworn to protect her, to allow no harm to come to her. She had no real reason to trust that he’d meant what he said—people were untrustworthy in general, and as prone to betrayal as that thieving fox—but somehow, she had a suspicion this boy put a high value on duty. Which was sheer foolishness, in her opinion, but she could use it to both their advantage now.
“You vowed to protect me,” she said, crossing her arms. “You can hardly accomplish that if you insist on dragging yourself through the snow without assistance, likely worsening your injury even further. You need to be in as good a shape as possible to defend my
