Page 185 of Frost and Death
But the bear’s movements still echo behind us, and I know the lesser of evils will be the river.
The ground beneath us hardens under crumpled dead leaves, dirt, and soot as we near a cliff.
I smell the river before I see it, and the fear of drowning shifts my balance unexpectedly, sending me and Jerrick down.
I hit the rocks, and I hiss in pain with barely any recovery time.
Jerrick bounces up like it is nothing, tugging at my clothes to aid me up.
But I can hardly breathe—let alone move—with fear and exhaustion gripping me.
My tunic loosens from my trousers, the fabric ripping from Jerrick’s strength.
He stops to look behind him, seeing the bear hurrying toward us—fast.
“Come on, Frostbite, we’re almost there.” He pulls me, and I slump, muscles fatigued and pinching in pain.
“Ican’t, Jer. The water,” I pant, my voice hoarse and inaudible.
“Hold on to me, and remember to take a deep breath,” Jerrick orders, scooping me into his arms and running to the edge of the cliff.
I scream, my heart flipping as I grip Jerrick in my panic when his footing leaves the ground, and we plummet.
Being airborne is nothing as my lungs inhale of their own accord, knowing what is to come.
Water attacks my skin, and the force of the element takes us by surprise. It pulls us down, and the lower we sink, the colder it gets.
I am pushed and pulled in all directions, and the only hold I have on Jerrick is his hand.
I strain to hold my breath, even when another current crashes against us, the impact forcing us apart.
No.
My movements turn frantic as I flail underwater, seeking the surface or Jerrick. The world weighs down as the push and pull of the river gnaws at me.
It gets colder the more I panic.
My chest aches from exertion and lack of oxygen. A tightness latches onto my sternum, my ribs, and my lungs, caving in as my arms and legs can’t do anything.
A kernel of my magic sways against the pain, trying to be useful, but I am so cold—so tired.
Images of someone’s face dance through my vision as they call my name.
My name. My—nickname. Not Snow Queen but…Frostbite.
I try to speak, but something gurgles, ceasing the action. I feel heavy, almost double my own weight, and I can’t sense a lick of air. No air.
I can’t breathe.
A force pounds down on me. Hard.
Bile rises and caves my chest inward. The pressure from my abdomen lurches my eyes open, and I have no time to stop from rolling over to empty the contents of my stomach.
I heave and sob, still not enough air passing into my lungs. My senses are muddled, the heavy scent of pine makes me need to vomit even more.
A warm sensation touches my back, the soothing heat the only thing I can focus on.
With my stomach emptied, my vision adjusts. Black rims the sides, slowly turning into a blur and then clear images. Solid ground is beneath me, trees line the river in front of me, and summer’s heat blazes against my exhausted body.
