Again.
Again.
Again.
Nothing happens.
“Come on,” I mutter through clattering teeth.
I’ve mastered the blessed trinity!
Not by yourself, a dark voice whispers in my head.
I jerk, and push it away.
I try again.
Slowly, I drag the air in. Force it out. My head grows light. My fingertips tingle. The cold doesn’t leave, not completely, but after awhile something shifts deep inside me.
A faint ember catches beneath my ribs. I cling to it. Feed it with breath.
In. Out. In. Out.
By the time exhaustion drags at my eyelids, I’m still freezing but no longer convinced the mountain will kill me before dawn.
Sleep comes in scraps only.Short, restless stretches filled with jagged dreams.
Wings overhead. Golden eyes. Jax’s voice saying my name in that careful tone that only makes everything worse.
By the time pale dawn creeps through the trees, I feel like death.
Every joint in my body aches when I stand. My neck is stiff. My fingers clumsy from cold.
But I’m alive.
I didn’t freeze to death during the night.
I stamp life back into my legs and step out from beneath the overhang into the brittle morning air.
The forest glitters with frost. My stomach growls so violently it makes me wince. If I’m going to keep moving, I need real food.
Meditation overnight cost me more than I care to admit.
With a sigh, I sling my bow over my shoulder and head out. I’m a lousy hunter, but…I search for tracks. I never thought Dad bringing us hunting every spring would ever come in handy.
From what I remember, rabbits leave neat little prints in soft earth and mud, paired and light. Droppings. Nibbled bark. Paths through low grass.
It takes me some time, but eventually I find what I’m looking for near a strand of bush where the ground is softer.
I crouch low and wait.
The cold bites through my trousers. My breath fogs in front of me. A muscle in my shoulder starts to cramp from holding my bow.
But I ignore the discomfort and wait.
When I’m just about to give up, the damn rabbit appears. Small. Brown. Quick.
I draw the arrow.
