Page 151 of The Heart of Winter

"These are amazing. I think I might become a seafood fan," I murmured, glancing over at Winter.

He wasn’t looking at me. He sat motionless in the hot water, still pale.

I set the empty shells aside and returned to the mattress.

"Come here, Winter. Let’s warm up together. Your feet are seriously in bad shape, if an infection sets in, it could get dangerous."

Eventually, he got out of the water, dried off, and lay down beside me. I saw how his stomach was even flatter than before—almost sunken in. He’d always been lean, but now he looked concave.

We rested together, and I wrapped my arms around him. He responded by tucking his head into my neck.

Then, out of nowhere, he whispered, "We’re going to die here, Sariel. This place is nothing but a dead, snow-covered rock. We’re not going to make it."

I pulled him closer. "Winter, don’t give up. Please. I know you’re exhausted, but let me go out tomorrow and look for clams. Maybe—"

"No! Your leg… You just sprained it a few days ago. There’s no way it’s healed enough. If you push yourself too soon, you’ll make it worse. If there’s ligament damage, putting weight on it could tear it further, or inflame it—"

"It hurts less than before."

"I don’t care. I’m not lying here in a cave while you limp around on the beach," he said firmly.

"Winter, I’m telling you, your feet are a mess. You could get an infection."

He didn’t answer.

"You’re not going anywhere today. Just rest, stay off your feet." I knew it was only midday, which meant a long, hungry afternoon and an even longer night, but I couldn’t let him go back out.

"Fine…" His voice was barely a whisper. "By morning, I’ll feel better. My feet will be dry again."

He pressed himself against me, and soon we both drifted into a restless sleep, clinging to each other as tightly as possible—like our bodies were the last fragile thread keeping us alive.

WINTER

Hunger.

I had never truly known hunger before. Sometimes, when I worked late and didn’t want to stop coding, I’d go hours with an empty stomach and think,God, I’m so dedicated to this company, working while starving.

But that was nothing compared to this.

For the last twenty-four hours, the only thing I’d eaten was that weird paste Sariel had made.

I gave both clams to him. I had to lie because I knew he wouldn’t agree to take them otherwise. But he’d gone hungry almost the entire day before.

He depended on me. I knew his leg wouldn’t be fully healed for a long time. I’d sprained my ankle as a kid as well. I remembered that the first week was awful. Sariel hadn’t even taken that much of the painkillers. He was tough.

I couldn’t expect him to walk on that injured leg, barely held together with makeshift splints, while waves knocked him around and his foot twisted in the soft sand. That was out of the question.

The responsibility of finding food was mine.

The morning was rough.

I was weak, so weak. Without waking Sariel, I got up and stepped out onto the beach.

Even though I’d taken an extra blanket today, I was still shivering. The wind was freezing, and the snow that had fallen overnight now covered the sand. The sun was barely peeking through a thin veil of mist, giving off no warmth at all. But what else could I expect in January?

A thought hit me: ’H’ was probably buried again. I shot a grim look toward the slope where, about a fifteen-minute walk away, the seats lay. I should go there, fix the letter… but food. I needed to find food first.

Staggering against the sharp, icy gusts, I made my way down to the shoreline, my teeth chattering as I pulled off my boots. The moment I stepped into the water, my whole body tensed. The first section, where the water was slightly warmer, had already been searched thoroughly. I hadn’t expected to find anything there, so this time, I had no choice, I had to go deeper.

---