Page 127 of The Heart of Winter

"Thank you… for coming back. It means a lot," he whispered.

There was a moment of silence, strangely warm. I still had my hands on his head. Slowly, almost shyly, I leaned in again. This time, I kissed his cheek. I heard his soft intake of breath.

"Oh, Winter," he murmured, turning toward me. Our lips met again, this time not in passion, but in something gentler. Tender?

It felt unusual… but not bad. Just… new. I let it last for a while, then pulled back and stood up.

"Okay. I really have to go now."

I schooled my face to look like always: composed, calm.

"Yes. Thank you," he said, his words barely audible.

As I stepped out of the cave, my heart was beating faster than before, almost like it was cheering me on. That tiny gesture had given me an unexpected kind of joy.

Damn. I needed to stop overthinking everything.

Sariel had said it himself, we needed to let whatever this was between us grow naturally. That felt like the right path forward.

While I scaled the volcano slope, a thought flickered through my mind. Honestly, we had much bigger things to worry about right now than nursing our romantic feelings.

No matter how understanding I wanted to be, the truth was simple: his heat had come at the worst possible time. Staying holed up in the cave could seriously hurt our chances of being rescued.

While we were soaking in that stream, five drones could’ve flown over the island and decided no one was here. And I wasn’t exactly confident that the crooked ‘H’ I scraped into the snow looked like anything more than a random patch of slush.

Also, sex would burn through our energy reserves, forcing us to go through our supplies faster and drink more of the mineral water.

The inconvenient truth was… our situation could become desperate really fast.

But all those worries had to stay put in my head. I didn’t want Sariel to feel guilty, he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t to blame. It was just the cruel twist of Fate.

I walked, keeping my eyes on the sky, heading toward the volcanic caldera visible about 700 yards away. The volcano wasn’t massive, but there was a thin plume of smoke rising from it. Pretty unsettling.

Moving carefully, listening to my surroundings, I kept scanning the sky as often as I could for any sign of movement. But it was silent.

From this height, I could also see the ocean, but it was just as empty. Not a single ship on the horizon. Not that it would have mattered. Even if one had been passing by, I doubted I could have caught their attention. My small figure would have blended right into the jagged, uneven slopes of the volcano.

After about fifteen minutes, I reached a shallow depression in the mountainside, maybe a channel where lava had flowed recently. There was no snow here. I stepped down into it, immediately noticing the ground was warmer.

A few bulbous rock formations jutted out, solidified lava flows, round and massive, like frozen tongues of molten stone. Heat radiated from them.

Feeling slightly uneasy, I approached, as if expecting them to bite. Cautiously, I spread out the blankets over the hottest ones. One of them let out a faint sizzle on contact. I pulled it back, scared it would ruin the blankets, then tried another. This time, steam rose from the fabric, but at least it wasn’t burning.

The area was warm—pleasant, even—but there was an underlying sense of dread. After all, I was standing on an active volcano.

Trying to push that thought aside, I lingered there for a while, staring at the sky. It was already dark, heavy clouds rolling in, the kind that promised snow. My stomach clenched as I glanced toward the distant meadow where I’d stomped the ‘H’ into the ground. From here, I couldn’t see it at all.

If snow fell, it would erase my signal completely, lowering our chances even further. My jaw tightened. Not good.

I stayed there for about twenty minutes. By then, the blankets had dried. Rolling them up, I headed back down the slope.

After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to detour to the beach. Something was pulling me there.

It took me nearly twenty-five minutes to reach it. I moved carefully, trying not to slip. The lower part of the volcano’s slope was wetter, some areas even covered in ice. The closer I got to the bay, the more snow appeared.

Finally, I stepped onto the rocky shore. The sand here was a dark, ashy gray. I scooped some into my pockets; it might come in handy for cleaning.

I started searching the coastline, flipping over a few stones. Nothing good for eating. I vaguely recalled that parts of Asia had plenty of edible mussels, clams, shellfish, and shrimp. But here? Nothing. Maybe I’d have to wade into the water, but that was out of the question. Just looking at the churning, gray waves made me shiver. That water was pure ice. One dip, and I’d be hypothermic in minutes.

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