For the millionth time, Crystalia tried to imagine what their meeting would be like. Would the Hero kiss her upon sight, or would he still play the gentleman? How Crystalia missed Viola already.
Viola could concoct the most delicious fantasies. There would have been no chance for Crystalia to fall asleep had the blonde been along. No, on more than one occasion, the two girls had stayed up all night long, talking of such things. And now to think of how much more they would have to mull over! It was unfair to have so much jumbled up inside and no one to share it with.
But Crystalia did not suppose Madame Hesper saw it that way. Crystalia tried to steer her mind away from the subject, but it kept circling around to the old medium. She should have been too tired to be sad on top of it all, but sad she was.
Of all the things that she already regretted about leaving so suddenly, not saying good-bye to the woman who had granted her these gifts was the thing she felt worst about. It was Madame Hesper that Crystalia had to thank for blessing her with the compass and the extraordinary lifeline that stretched out past her palm.
Crystalia wondered what the old woman would think come the dawn. To imagine that she would cause Madame Hesper a single moment of pain hurt. Perhaps her farewell letter would soothe the wound. Crystalia turned to look back over the Plains, but her horse tripped. Giving the gelding a push with her heel, Crystalia expected the horse to right himself, but he only tripped again.
Looking down, Crystalia found that the poor creature was up to his hocks in snow, apparently stuck in a drift. The horse must be as tired as I am, Crystalia thought as she dismounted, only to find herself sinking into the unstable snow. No matter how hard she tried, Crystalia sank further into the bank.
Quicksnow!
Back in Last Hitch, she had heard the trappers speak of the phenomena with fear thick in their voice. Slow and steady, she thought as she remembered their warnings, but with each lift of her leg, the snow only gave way further.
The horse, sensing her fear, began to panic, kicking and fighting. Battling her own terror, Crystalia tried to calm the beast. Thrashing would only serve to dig them in deeper. Already, her petticoats were under the surface. Mind racing, Crystalia tried to remember the survival tricks the grisly old men had bandied around while they gossiped in front of her shop.
As hard as she tried, Crystalia could only bring to mind one solution.
Stay calm until you are rescued. Even though the odds of that were dismal, Crystalia fought the urge to become hysterical. After all, her lifeline would not lie, would it? With trepidation, Crystalia gazed at her palm and felt her heart jump to her throat. The once-straight line now throbbed and pulsed, twisting and turning as if it were convulsing.
Her fate not as sure as it was before, Crystalia gritted her teeth and forced herself to focus on the current situation.
Perhaps she could melt the snow?
Willing her palms to glow a deep red, she passed her hands over the surrounding snow. Sure enough, it melted, but the liquid just caused her to sink even more quickly. The fear alone as her hips were encased in icy snow caused her hands to cool off. The horse was already sunk up to its withers. Eyes rolled back in his head, he looked like he might die of fright long before he suffocated beneath the drift.
Tears welled, Crystalia knew she was running out of options. There was only one thing left to try. Taking a deep breath, Crystalia let out a scream like she had done as a little girl.
“Help!”
***
Ornery shifted on the unyielding wooden seat. For as quickly as they were moving, the scenery did not look any different. Miss Emmert had lain down to rest hours ago, and her gentle snoring made everything that happened seem less strange. At least some things never changed.
Swiveling his newly grown ear, Ornery listened. He could have sworn he heard something. Cocking his head, Ornery heard the strange sound again. Even the horses’ ears perked. The tone was such that he could not identify the source. The wind occasionally played tricks upon his ever-changing ears, but the horses seemed to hear it too. Ornery scanned the blank plains, finding no source of the supposed noise.
The sound echoed again. This time Ornery was certain the noise was real. Turning, he parted the curtain to find Miss Emmert still sound asleep. Should he wake her? Ornery noted that the horses had slowed their pace and had their ears cocked to the north. He intensely wished that he had the same gift as Miss Emmert to speak with his cousins. Ornery hated to disturb his caretaker for nothing. He might not be able to read the centaurs’ thoughts, but they had certainly been able to understand his language in the past.
“Did you hear that noise too?” Ornery asked tentatively.
Nutmeg and Cinnamon jangled their harnesses loudly and bobbed their heads like those trick circus animals.
“Was it human?” Again, the answer seemed to be a definitive “yes.”
“Should we check it out... ya know, before we wake Miss Emmert?”
This time there was no response, as if they hadn’t heard him at all. It appeared they wished the boy to bear the brunt of the decision. Ornery could imagine how angry Miss Emmert would be if they veered off course for nothing. Then again, what if this was the girl they sought?
Even a simple decision such as this caused Ornery to balk. When was he going to learn to be a man and develop his own resolve?
Obviously, not tonight. In his volatile state, a few harsh words from Miss Emmert would send his mind reeling again. With a sigh, Ornery parted the curtain again and called to his caretaker. She bolted upright, as if she had never been asleep.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ve heard someone crying.”
Miss Emmert was over the backboard in a second and intently stared at the horses. Finally, she patted Ornery on the knee.
“You were wise to wake me. Never think asking for help is a sign of weakness.”
Ornery was not so sure of that, but he was secretly glad she was awake as Nutmeg and Cinnamon took a sharp turn and sped up the pace. The early morning dawn was just beginning to peek over the eastern plain when the sound became so loud, even Miss Emmert heard it.
“Yah!” she shouted to the horses.
It was clear the noise was a girl’s cry for help. Ornery’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. The horses were charging ahead at full tilt, sweat pouring off their bodies, steam erupting from their nostrils. Miss Emmert’s face was grim. Her lips were set in a firm line. Ornery clutched the reins, praying they reached the girl in time.
“There!” Miss Emmert bolted up in her seat and pointed to the right. Sure enough, there was a tiny speck of black on the horizon. “Get down and sprint ahead.”
A mixture of feelings constricted Ornery’s throat so badly that he could not immediately answer. He was proud beyond compare that Miss Emmert trusted him to scout ahead, but another part of him did not want to leave the safety of her side.
“Ornery?” Miss Emmert turned to see why he had not answered.
“What am I to do?”
“What do you think? Help her! Now git!”
Miss Emmert’s sharp words propelled him off the wagon. This time he landed squarely. Ornery was able to surge ahead almost immediately. For a moment, the boy feared that he could not outrun his cousins but something inside of him stirred at the sound of the girl’s pleas.
Rapidly, he pulled ahead. Ornery found himself ignoring his body’s complaints and thinking only of the girl. How frightened she must be! His aches and pains were nothing compared to the terror in her voice.
As he rushed forward, Ornery had expected the objects to take form, but they stayed small specks on the ground. Pouring all his fear and worry into his muscles, Ornery closed the distance. The sun’s rays began nudging away the night, giving him enough light to scan the area.
All he found was a head sticking up from on the ground and a pair of horse’s nostrils flaring next the girl’s head. The sight made his legs falter. How could this decapitated head still be sh
outing and sobbing?
Worry slowed him, but curiosity nudged Ornery forward. “Miss?”
The face turned towards Ornery, as startled as he was. Despite her puffy eyes and streaked make-up, Ornery had never seen a girl so radiant. There was a kindness there, like somehow her heart showed through her skin.
“Thank the gods! I was —” The girl yelled as Ornery raced forward again, “No! It’s Quicksnow! Don’t come too close.”
Well, how was he going to help her?
“Don’t worry, Miss Emmert will know what to do...”
The girl nodded, but that only made the snow swallow up another inch of her neck. Now, the girl had to raise her chin to keep it out of the snow. Ornery turned as he heard the wagon clamor to a stop behind him. Miss Emmert leapt from the wagon’s edge, falling to her knees, but the woman scrambled up quickly.
Ornery barred her approach. “It’s Quicksnow.”
Miss Emmert nodded sternly then raised her hands and began chanting. As his caretaker’s palms became red embers, the girl shouted, “No! You’ll only make it worse.”
Doubt clouded Miss Emmert’s usually stoic face.
“Don’t worry child, I’ll melt it —”
Desperation tinged the girl’s voice. “I’ve already tried! We’ll just sink faster.”
Hands still spread open, his caretaker hesitated. Ornery reached over and urged her palms down. “I believe her, Miss Emmert. Please, you’ve got to have another... another...” Ornery could not believe he said the word, “Spell.”
“Not without time to prepare…” Miss Emmert’s voice trailed off, but quickly her mind snapped to action. “Get the rope from the back and tie it around your waist. I’ll unhitch the horses.”
Ornery charged to the back of the wagon as the girl continued her strangled sobs. She was trying so hard not to look terrified, which made Ornery’s feet move all the faster. Without hesitation, he followed Miss Emmert’s urgent instructions.
“Now what?”
“Tie the other end to the wagon wheel.”
Ornery’s fingers fumbled and he ripped off his gloves, exposing his bare flesh. Luckily, coarse hair was growing over his hands, giving some protection from the freezing temperatures. “Now?”
Miss Emmert motioned with her head towards the girl as she rapidly untied the horses gear. “Take another rope. Get in there.”
“What?” Ornery said in sheer amazement. Surely, his caretaker did not mean for him to enter the Quicksnow.
Miss Emmert’s words were rushed. “Neither of them can grab the rope from themselves. You have to secure the rope so we can pull them out.”
“But —”
“Go!”
Ornery turned to find the girl sniffling but staring right at him. Her brown eyes refused to beg him, but her need was clear. Before he could think any further, Ornery surged forward and took a flying leap as the snow beneath his feet crumbled away. The landing was not at all jarring, since his feet were sucked into the bed of snow.
His impact forced the horse’s left nostril beneath the snow line. Panicked steam puffed from its right nostril. The girl was not in much better shape. Ornery could barely understand her words through the encroaching snow.
“Thank you,” the girl said more with her eyes then her lips.
Miss Emmert shouted, “Wrap the rope around the horse’s neck first.”
It was hard to ignore the girl’s plight, but Ornery did as Miss Emmert asked. He shared as much heritage with the horse as he did the girl. The task turned out to be far more difficult than he had at first guessed. Fighting the urge to panic as the snow sucked him down consumed Ornery’s attention. With each step he took to near the horse, Ornery lost another inch or two. Soon, he was up to his knees. If he did not get this task accomplished soon, he would not be able to reach the girl before he himself was stuck.
Once beside the horse, Ornery bent over and dug through the snow, freeing the beast’s other nostril. A snort of appreciation blew in Ornery’s ear.
Unconsciously, the boy reached out and petted the horse’s nose, trying to soothe the beast as his other hand groped in the snow. The smell of fear was so strong upon the animal that Ornery found his own pulse quickening. Shoving aside his bestial instincts, Ornery secured the rope.
“Done!”
“Toss it here,” Miss Emmert shouted.
Ornery flung the end of the rope into the air and was shocked to find Nutmeg catch it in her mouth. Both his cousins began gently tugging at the rope, dragging the horse forward inch by inch. Ornery turned towards the girl. Her eyelids fluttered as dislodged snow assaulted her eyes. Buried up to his thighs, Ornery finally stood next to the girl. Tentatively, he brushed away the snow from her lips and brow.
“Stabilize her until we pull the horse free,” Miss Emmert instructed.
“Um... How?” Ornery asked, embarrassed that he did not know.
“Hold her,” his caretaker said offhandedly as she helped Nutmeg and Cinnamon finish the horse’s ascent.
“Where?”
“Ornery, please. Use your head.” When it was obvious Ornery had no idea how to apply that particular piece of advice, Miss Emmert sighed, “Around the waist might be a start.”
He leaned down and fidgeted a bit to sink himself closer to the girl’s level. “I’ve got to, um...”
The girl nodded tersely. “I understand.”
With fingers thick and awkward from acute self-consciousness, Ornery shoved his hands under the snow line. There was no way to hold the girl without first encircling his arms around her waist. And that would mean getting far closer to a girl than he ever had. “I... I need to —”
“It’s all right, I will not think you forward.”
Ornery swallowed hard and inched his hands closer to her waist. His fingers brushed something, and he immediately withdrew his hand. What if it had been her... her...
“Here, let me help,” the girl said in a strained voice. The tension of the experience was plain on her face.
Beneath the snow, the girl’s hands found his own. Her skin was like ice but her touch awoke a burning in Ornery. His palms began to sweat, and he could feel a stirring in his loin.
No, this could not be happening, not now!
Distracting his mind, he thought of all the other girls who had been so hateful to him. Their faces blanketed his vision, and anger rose in the place of passion. This girl was probably no different. Willing his body to behave, he allowed the girl to guide his hands to her waist.
Once his fingers could lock together, he began slowly pulling her up into his embrace. As their bodies pressed together, Ornery had to struggle to keep his mind occupied. The girl’s sigh of relief beat on his neck, causing the stiff hairs to stand on end. Could this be any more torturous?
Unfortunately, it could. For every inch he pulled her up, he sank down, until they were level, chest-high in the snow. Her arms now free, she hugged him and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, exhaustion and cold making her tremble in his embrace. Ornery found himself cooing to her as he had the horse.
“Shh. You’re safe now...”
A wracking sob shook the girl’s thin frame, and she wept in his arms. Ornery never wanted the moment to end. They could freeze to death in this pose, and he would die happy. To think another could so quickly and easily ensnare your heart. With a tug to his rope, the moment was shattered.
“Let’s get her out of there,” Miss Emmert said, wiping her brow. Nutmeg and Cinnamon were flanking the freed horse. Its limbs trembled so violently that it looked about to swoon even with the Centaurs’ support. Gently, his cousins urged the horse forward to try and steady his legs. Ornery looked down to find that the girl staring up at him.
“Are you ready?” he asked the girl.
“I... I won’t be much help, I’m afraid...”
“I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”
The girl’s eyelids sagged, and she leaned back into his chest. She need not worry at all, Ornery thought. H
e could carry her to the Starry Peak and back if need be. As Miss Emmert pulled with the rope, Ornery used his newly awakened centaur legs to walk towards the woman. It was slow going. Ornery nearly lost as much ground as he gained, but he cared little how long it took, so long as the girl was in his arms. Finally, his knees were clear and he began climbing faster, but the girl moaned.
“I’m sorry, I can’t—” The girl slumped in his arms, now too weak even to cling to him for support.
Without thought, Ornery swung her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest.
“Quickly, Ornery!” Miss Emmert urged. Ornery did not need any further encouragement. His legs complained against the strain, but Ornery cleared the Quicksnow in three strides. Miss Emmert immediately rushed forward and checked the girl’s forehead and pulse.
“Dear gods, I did not realize she was so bad off. She’s chilled to the bone. Get her inside, quickly.”
Miss Emmert climbed into the wagon and leaned over to take the girl, but Ornery waved the woman off and leapt over the edge, landing gracefully inside the wagon. His caretaker immediately began rummaging through her bags of herbs.
“Lay her down and take those clothes off of her.”
Ornery backed away a step. “Miss Emmert, I can’t —”
“Hurry, boy. We don’t have much time! Look at her color.”
Ornery could not argue with Miss Emmert on that. The girl’s tone had gone from pale to red to an ashen gray. Cautiously, Ornery moved closer and gingerly fingered the sash around the girl’s waist.
“Quickly, boy.”
Fueled by the concern in the woman’s voice, Ornery closed his eyes and undressed the girl as if he might a doll. After what seemed like a dozen layers, Ornery reached her petticoats. Instead of ruffled lace, they were brittle and sharp, frozen through.
“Miss Emmert, feel this.”
His caretaker rushed to his side and felt the stiff undergarments, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” Ornery asked.
“She must have melted the snow and it saturated her clothes. Dear mother, I can’t believe she’s still alive.” Miss Emmert urged Ornery to the side. “Hitch the horses and tell them to make best speed to the Fold.”
7 Folds of Winter Page 23