Page 155 of The Heart of Winter

"Please, trust me!"

It was almost a plea, almost a cry.

I pressed the head of my semi-hard cock to his entrance and pushed inside.

It felt shockingly good, even with the hunger gnawing at me, even with the sense that we were dying. A wave of warmth washed over me, a bliss so unexpected that for a second, it didn’t seem real. But I didn’t move, I didn’t have the strength to.

"That’s enough," Sariel murmured. "Now, go to sleep."

I wanted to move. I wanted to chase that pleasure. But my eyes slid shut on their own, and moments later, I sank into a deep sleep that barely felt different from dying.

***

I woke up at dawn.

Another day. What was this now… the seventh? The eighth? I had no idea anymore. So many days. So many days of hunger.

Some people might think it wasn’t that long, that during wars, people had survived much longer. Maybe I was just too soft by modern civilization. Maybe I’d cut too much weight at the gym, leaving myself without fat reserves. Maybe I just didn’t have the mental fortitude to endure something like this.

Seven days.

For the first two, we’d at least had some nuts and snacks. Small portions, but they’d helped. Then I ate that one clam and a tiny pancake. And now…?

My mind spiraled into frantic calculations. Wait, wait… four full days without food? Completely? Besides that tiny piece of ground bark? And a clam in the middle? That was it?

I started obsessively counting, adding up numbers in my head, trying to figure out how many calories I could’ve possibly burned. My mind latched onto the thought and wouldn’t let go.

Numbers spun and churned in my skull.

One day: 3,000 calories, maybe. Moving, walking, freezing. Probably more.

5,000? That number rang a bell.

As a gym enthusiast, I’d read a lot about diets and physical exertion, and I remembered something about the body storing energy in the liver and muscles, mostly as glycogen. It added up to around that number: 5,000 calories, when measured that way.

So basically, walking around on the cold beach, searching… I’d depleted my reserves in just one, maybe two days?

What the fuck?! Was that even accurate? Or was Ihallucinatingthe math?

How had I kept going for four more days? Had I already started burning through my own muscles? Had I entered ketosis? Most likely.

Those spiraling thoughts did nothing for my mental state. If anything, they just sent me into a deeper panic, convincing me that I was about to collapse from sheer weakness.

No. No giving up. I had to stop the crazy brooding.

Sariel was still asleep. I decided not to wake him. I forced myself up from the mattress, and that’s when I saw it.

My clothes, lying by the stream. Completely soaked.

No. No, no, no.

How the hell was I supposed to get to the beach now? How was I supposed to search for food?

I glanced at Sariel’s clothes. His shirt, his jacket—they were still dry.

I hesitated. If I took them and they got wet… would I even be able to dry them later?

Would I even be able to climb the volcano?

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