The air was bitterly cold, the kind of cold that seeped deep into the bones and refused to let go. Snow fell steadily, dusting the forest in a silent, oppressive white. The wind howled intermittently, biting at the skin. Emmett sat hunched over, his body wracked with violent shivers as he tried to coax more life into the small, struggling fire before him.

  He had built what shelter he could against the overturned tree. Its massive roots had pulled up a hollow of earth, creating a natural windbreak. Using branches, snow, and whatever debris he could find, Emmett had fashioned a crude lean-to that barely kept the wind from cutting through. The fire sputtered and hissed, the damp wood crackling weakly in defiance of the elements.

  Emmett’s coat was clinging to him like an ice sheet. His blouse was soaked and stiff.

  Emmett reached into his coat, pulling out a small, soggy cardboard sleeve and scowled.

  The Pervitin.

  The pack had gotten soaked through. He had thought it was sealed well enough but apparently not. The pills inside were ruined. A soggy paste, stuck to the inside of the crushed packaging.

  "Goddamn waste," he muttered bitterly. He peeled apart what was left of the cardboard and tossed the ruined pills into the snow. Then, he set the wet sleeve next to the fire, hoping it would dry out enough to burn later.

  He sighed and turned to the gear he had laid out. The river had claimed nearly everything. Leaving him with only the bare essentials. His knife, his 1911 pistol still secured in its holster, and two magazines for it. Sitting in a pouch opposite his handgun.

  The Grease Gun was gone. Swept away by the icy water. All he had now were the two spare magazines for it, an extra penknife he salvaged from the shredded remains of his bag, his canteen that had bulged from it’s frozen contents, and one last tranquilizer dart that had been loose in his pocket. Almost everything else. His rations, spare clothes, tools... gone.

  His hands trembled as he pulled his coat and blouse off, the wet fabric clinging stubbornly to his skin. He grimaced as the freezing air hit his soaked undershirt, his breath escaping in shallow puffs of steam. He strung his clothes over some low branches near the fire, hoping the weak heat would dry them out. If only a little.

  Snowflakes settled on his shoulders, melting into icy rivulets that trickled down his back. He hugged his knees to his chest, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. The cold was like a living thing, gnawing at him relentlessly, and the fire felt pathetically inadequate against its ferocity.

  Behind him, Eira lay unconscious, her body curled on the frozen ground. Her fur, though matted and soaked, provided some insulation, but even she wasn’t immune to the bitter chill. She shivered in her sleep, her breaths shallow and uneven. Her torn uniform did little to shield her from the snow that dusted her prone form.

  Emmett glanced over at her, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. Everything had gone so damn wrong. Things had progressively gotten worse since he had captured her, and now, he was stranded in a freezing wilderness, his body battered, his resources gone, and his only company a creature that wanted him dead.

  His stomach growled loudly, a cruel reminder of how long it had been since he’d eaten. He ignored it, focusing instead on the fire. With shaking hands, he grabbed more damp branches from the pile he’d gathered and fed them into the flames. The fire hissed in protest, but eventually, the wood began to smolder.

  The heat wasn’t enough.

  Emmett groaned, his body wracked with violent shivers. His strength was fading fast, his mind clouded by exhaustion and the relentless cold. He curled closer to the fire, desperate for warmth.

  “I’m screwed,” he muttered through chattering teeth, his voice barely audible over the wind.

  He tried to keep his focus, his survival instincts urging him to stay awake, to keep moving, but it was a losing battle. His body was shutting down, the cold and exhaustion creeping further into his core with every passing second.

  Finally, with a groan that was equal parts defeat and desperation, Emmett collapsed onto his side. His cheek pressed against the frozen earth, his body curling reflexively as he tried to conserve what little heat he had left.

  Snow continued to fall, a thick, relentless blanket that covered the forest in icy silence. The fire sputtered weakly, its glow barely illuminating the interior of the shelter Emmett had built.

  For a moment, the world was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire and the howling wind. Emmett went still, his shuddering breath slowing. His body succumbing to exhaustion and cold. Slipping into unconsciousness.

  Across from him. Eira stirred. Then her eyes suddenly snapped open with a jolt, her lungs heaving as if she had just surfaced from drowning.

  Cold.

  That was the first sensation that slammed into her awareness. A brutal, bone-deep cold that made her muscles ache and her fur feel like a brittle coat of frost. She gasped, her breath escaping in visible puffs that lingered for a moment before the air snatched them away.

  Her surroundings sharpened into view, though her vision swam slightly. A crude shelter of branches and packed snow loomed around her, the structure barely holding together against the wind that screamed like a banshee outside. Somewhere close by, a feeble fire sputtered, its weak embers casting flickering light and the faintest hint of warmth.

  Then her eyes found him.

  Emmett lay crumpled near the fire, stripped down to his under garments, his body pale and glistening with a cold sweat. His lips were blue, and violent tremors racked his battered form. His shallow breaths came unevenly, the sound soft and unsettling in the otherwise still air. He looked half-dead. Like a ghost clinging to its last fragile moments in the mortal world.

  For a long moment, Eira just stared. Her blue eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of the man who had been the cause of so much of her suffering. She finally turned her attention to the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles. Digging painfully into her damp, frozen fur, a reminder of the humiliation he’d inflicted on her. But now? Now he looked helpless. Pathetic, even.

  “Idiot,” she muttered in German, her voice rough and sharp. The word carried no pity, only disdain. Her body shuddered violently, and her teeth clacked together as another wave of freezing air seeped through the cracks of the shelter. She glanced down at her legs, noticing her boots were bound together with a sloppy knot. She growled, irritation bubbling under the surface as her claws worked to untie the cord.

  The knot fell apart quickly, the bindings offering little resistance. She stretched her legs with a hiss of discomfort, her knees stiff from the cold. Her wrists were next. The rope there was tighter, biting into her fur and skin, but even that gave way after a few sharp tugs.

  Free.

  She flexed her stiff, clawed fingers, grimacing as blood began to flow back into her hands. The sensation burned, but she forced herself to move, to ignore the aching stiffness in her joints. She paused as she felt a stinging sensation in her neck. She paused, reaching up, and felt something sticking out of the fur. She winced as she pulled it free. Briefly feeling resistance and held it in front of her.

  In her hands was the dart Emmett had stabbed her with on the river bank. She scowled and tossed it aside cursing. She crawled toward the fire, pressing as close as she dared, holding her hands near the pitiful flames. The fire crackled weakly, barely offering any heat against the freezing air, but it was better than nothing.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Her eyes flicked back to Emmett, her lips curling into a smug grin.

  Serves you right, she thought.

  The man who had dragged her into this hell was now at death’s door. It was poetic justice.

  She moved closer to him, curiosity overriding her instinct to stay away. He was mumbling something under his breath, his voice low and garbled, the words barely audible. She leaned in, her sharp ears twitching as she caught fragments of what he was saying.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a soft, broken chant, like a mantra meant to ward off unseen demons.

  Her nose wrinkled as she studied him, his face contorted in a grimace even in unconsciousness. “You should be,” she muttered in German, her voice dripping with disdain. “For everything.”

  But her curiosity lingered. Who was he apologizing to? It certainly wasn’t her. No, there was something deeper there. A wound she couldn’t see but could sense all the same. For a moment, her smugness faltered, replaced by something she couldn’t quite name. She shook her head violently, trying to banish the thought.

  “Schei?e,” she growled, her frustration mounting as she looked him over. Her claws reached for his web belt lying nearby, her practical mind taking over. If he had anything useful on him, she would need it. A bulged canteen, expanded from its frozen contents, a holstered handgun dangled from the belt, along with a magazine pouch and a knife. She inspected each item and set them aside. Then pulled the dagger he carried from it’s sheath.

  Her eyes lingered on the knife, its long, wickedly sharp blade gleaming faintly in the firelight. She held it up, her reflection distorted in the steel. Her blue eyes flicked to Emmett, her mind racing. It would be so easy, so quick. One stab to the throat, and it would all be over. No more Herr Emmett

  She tightened her grip on the knife, her claws pressing into the handle. But then she hesitated. He had saved her in a way. At least he had allowed her to save herself. She knew that decision wasn’t out of mercy. It was strictly pragmatic, and desperate.

  But then she had saved him to. And he had the audacity to tranquilize her on the frozen riverbank.

  “Damn him,” she hissed, setting the knife aside. With a shrug, she decided to allow nature to take its course.

  She reached over to his hanging clothes, and felt something in the breast pocket, she pulled out a small dart, and her lip curled into a snarl. “Of course,” she muttered, rolling the tranquilizer dart between her fingers. She debated throwing it into the fire but instead tucked it into her own pocket. Perhaps it would come in handy later. She felt through the other pockets and found a few miscellaneous items. A small compass, a waterlogged lighter, and not much else.

  She rose to her knees, her joints protesting with every movement. Her sharp eyes scanned the shelter, searching for anything else of value. A magazine pouch caught her attention, but the submachine gun it belonged to was nowhere to be seen. She sighed, grabbing the pouch anyway, slinging it over her shoulder.

  Her gaze returned to Emmett one last time. His lips were still blue, his body trembling violently as his breath came in ragged gasps. He looked more like a corpse than a man.

  She sniffed, pulling her soaked coat tighter around her frame. “You’ll freeze,” she said aloud in German, her voice cold and matter of fact. “And it’s more than you deserve.”

  With a final glance at the pitiful fire, she turned toward the shelter’s entrance. The wind howled like a hungry predator, rattling the makeshift walls. She pressed her shoulder against the bough that covered the exit and pushed it aside, slipping into the storm without a backward glance.

  Eira stepped out of the shelter, her entire body instantly assaulted by the raw ferocity of the storm. The wind screamed as it swept through the skeletal remains of the forest, carrying with it a relentless barrage of snowflakes that clung to her wet fur and uniform. She gasped, the cold stealing the air from her lungs, and staggered forward, each step a battle against the icy gale. Her soaked, ruined uniform becoming stiff, the fabric crackling faintly with each movement, and every gust of wind seemed to drive icy needles into her.

  “Schei?e!” she hissed through chattering teeth, her voice lost to the howling storm. Her eyes darted around, squinting through the swirling whiteout, searching for anything. A landmark, a tree, anything to orient herself. But all she could see was a wall of white, the snow and wind conspiring to obliterate any sense of direction. The world had become an endless, frozen void.

  Standing there, exposed and vulnerable, Eira realized the sheer stupidity of her situation. She was on the edge of collapse, her body trembling violently as her strength waned. Survival instincts screamed at her to turn back. She had no choice. To stay out here meant certain death.

  “Schei?e,” she growled again, her voice more resigned than angry this time.

  She stumbled toward the nearest tree, its skeletal branches groaning under the weight of the snow. Her claws, numb and trembling, snapped at the lower branches, breaking off what she could. The wood was damp, but it was better than nothing. As she worked, her breath came in short, visible puffs, and her frozen fur cracked and shifted with each movement.

  Her arms laden with what meager wood she could find, Eira turned back toward the shelter. Her steps were unsteady, her legs screaming in protest as she trudged through the thick snow. The wind howled mercilessly, tearing at her with an almost sentient rage, as if the storm itself sought to crush her will. When she finally reached the lean-to, she ducked inside with a low growl, dropping the wood unceremoniously onto the frozen ground.

  Emmett hadn’t moved.

  His lips were still blue, and his body trembled with small, feeble shudders. He was muttering again, his words slurred and barely audible. Eira ignored him, focusing instead on coaxing the fire back to life. Her claws fumbled with the damp branches as she fed them into the weak flames, cursing under her breath as the fire sputtered and hissed. The smoke stung her eyes, and the meager heat seemed almost insulting against the oppressive cold.

  “Grow, damn you,” she muttered in German, her voice tight with frustration. She grabbed a stick and poked at the embers, feeding them more tinder. Slowly, painstakingly, the fire began to grow, the orange glow licking hungrily at the damp wood. Eira sat back on her knees, her body trembling as the warmth began to radiate outward. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  She glanced at Emmett, her eyes narrowing. His muttering continued, his breath rattling as he whispered the same words over and over. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

  Eira snorted, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “Pathetic,” she muttered in German. “Must be a long list of those you owe an apology.”

  She pulled off her boots, grimacing as her frozen, clawed toes came into view. She scooted closer to the fire, holding her feet near the flames and hissing in discomfort as the sensation began to return. The firelight reflected in her eyes, which flicked back to Emmett’s prone form.

  “Let him freeze,” she muttered aloud. The thought gave her a brief sense of satisfaction. He deserved it. For all the humiliation. For dragging her into this situation.

  This was justice. And more than he deserved as far as she was concerned.

  But as she sat there, shivering and miserable, another thought crept into her mind. A thought she hated with every fiber of her being.

  You have a better chance of surviving with two.

  “Nein” she growled, shaking her head violently as if to physically dislodge the idea. “Nein! Not him!”

  She rose as tall as she could in the cramped shelter. She bent down and grabbed him under the arms, groaning as she tried to haul his limp body off the ground. He was heavier than he looked, and her already weakened state made the task almost impossible. She managed to drag him to the edge of the shelter, with the intent of tossing him into the storm.

  Her mind screamed to toss him out. Just be done with him. But the pragmatic part of her, the part that clung stubbornly to survival, wouldn’t let her. She let out a frustrated roar, dropping him unceremoniously back onto the ground.

  She thought of the Russians, of the storm outside, of the impossible odds stacked against her. She had no food, no real supplies, and no idea where the nearest German lines might be. If she killed Emmett, she’d be alone to face the elements. The Russians.

  At least they had a common enemy it seemed.

  “Verdammt!” she cursed, pacing back and forth in the cramped shelter. Hunched dramatically. She ran a clawed hand through her frozen hair, the tips of her ears twitching as if trying to shake off her thoughts. Finally, with a growl, she knelt beside him again.

  Her claws flexed, barely resisting the urge to tear him apart, as she glared down at him with pure, unfiltered hatred. “I should let you freeze, you miserable bastard.” she spat in German, yanking his clothes from the makeshift drying rack above the fire. They were damp but better than nothing. Managing to dry out some since he hung them. She forced his stiff limbs into the half-dried fabric, gritting her teeth as she worked. “You’ll probably wake up and try to shoot me anyway.”

  She pulled his coat tightly around his shoulders, tugging it into place with more force than necessary. “If you die, maybe I’ll eat you,” she muttered bitterly, her lips curling into a humorless smile. The thought gave her no real satisfaction, but the words felt good to say.

  Finally, she shoved him closer to the fire, her claws gripping his collar as she dragged him as near to the flames as she dared. Her breath came in short, sharp puffs, and she sat back on her heels, staring down at him with a mixture of contempt and resignation.

  “I loath you so much,” she growled in German. Her voice was low and venomous, but beneath the anger was a flicker of something else. Not pity, not kindness, but the grim acknowledgment of necessity.

  Standing, Eira stretched her stiff limbs, her joints protesting loudly. The fire wouldn’t last long. Not with the wood she’d gathered. If they were going to survive the night, she needed more fuel.

  “Verdammt noch mal,” she muttered, pulling her coat tighter around her as she braced herself for the storm. With a final glance at Emmett, she stepped out into the howling blizzard once more.