Page 99 of The Heart of Winter

"Sariel, you know what I have to do now, right?" I said carefully. "I need you to understand, I have no idea if this will actually help or if I’ll just fuck things up even more."

Sariel exhaled slowly.

"I know, Winter," he whispered. "I appreciate the honesty. But I don’t have a choice. It hurts like hell. I’d rather have it set properly… because looking at it like this? Bent? It’s really creeping me out."

"If it’s broken, I could hurt you even more."

"I know. But you have to take the risk."

I nodded and crouched beside his foot, examining his ankle. He was wearing sleek, low-cut dress shoes, the kind you’d wear to a corporate meeting. His ankle had already started to swell, but from this angle, I didn’t see any bruising… and I really didn’t want to pull his sock off to check.

Our eyes met. I had to do this quickly. No hesitation.

"One, two, three," I counted calmly, then yanked.

Sariel let out a low, strangled groan. I was honestly impressed he didn’t scream. If it had been me in his place, I wasn’t sure I’d have kept my dignity intact.

Luckily, his leg seemed to snap back into a more natural position, more or less. The good news? The skin wasn’t torn, which meant it wasn’t an open fracture.

Sariel was shaking, his eyes oddly absent. Was he about to faint?

"Alright, that was the worst part," I said, keeping my tone light. "You handled it like a pro, Sariel, you’re tough! Now all that’s left is stabilizing it."

He shut his eyes tightly, silent, obviously wrestling with the lingering pain.

I got to work securing his leg. Sariel didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, though I knew he had to be hurting. I respected him for that, for trying to keep it together.

Once I finished, I hesitated. By looking at him, it was obvious he’d withdrawn into himself, completely silent and unmoving, which was understandable after everything I’d just put him through. But I couldn’t let him stay like that.

"You know," I said, keeping my voice steady, "we need a plan!"

There had to be something to redirect the negative energy. I knew that in a situation like this, having a plan—sticking to it—could mean the difference between life and death.

I glanced around, but the thick fog still made it hard to see. I could make out maybe seventy yards around us, a vast, reddish-brown field dusted with frost and patches of snow. The ground sloped gently downward, as if we were on a low hillside.

"Search and rescue teams will definitely be here soon," I said, trying to reassure him. "The first thing we need to do is protect ourselves from the cold. That’s part one of the plan."

Sariel slowly opened his eyes. I could see him trying to focus, to push past the pain and think clearly.

"You know, the seats have little storage compartments underneath," he murmured. "They usually keep blankets in them. Perks of business class."

He was right. I knelt and checked the compartments under each chair. Sure enough, inside each one were two neatly folded blankets.

"That’s three each, not bad!" I tried to sound positive.

I spread out the blankets, draping three of them around Sariel’s shoulders. He let me do it without a word.

"There’s also the seat fabric," I added, thinking out loud, filling the heavy silence. "That plush padding could work as insulation, but without a knife, I don’t know how we’d cut it. Besides, the seat might still be useful."

Between the chairs was a sturdy plastic storage console, where we’d both stashed our carry-ons. I pulled the compartments open to search through them.

Inside were also snacks: energy bars, crackers, pretzels, a few bottles of water, and six cans of peanuts.

There was a pack of disinfectant wipes too. In Sariel’s compartment, along with his carry-on, he had a small lunchbox containing two sandwiches.

Finally, I checked the third and last cabinet. Inside, there was a toiletry bag with personal items, belonging to the old guy who sat just one seat away from me. I felt uncomfortable and left it alone for the moment.

Suddenly, the scale of the tragedy hit me: nearly one hundred and fifty people had lost their lives today. Still, there was a small glimmer of hope within me, if we survived, maybe there were others who had too?

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