Edita's prediction comes true. I wake from a fitful sleep to discover white flakes already dappling my hair. By midday, snow crunches beneath my feet and swirls in a persistent flurry around me, filling the skies with streaks of white, the rocky path all but concealed. It glistens, untouched as far as I can see. A miracle crafted for the two of us and no other.

I want so desperately to appreciate it, to see only its beauty and its perfection, and yet I can feel that desire slipping through my fingers as easily as melting ice.

Snow is beautiful, but it is also freezing.

Clutching my forearm, I rub at it in an attempt to scrape away the frost sewn into the bare skin, though I know by now that it is futile. My glove is no less frozen. My hands escape the full bite of the icy air, yet there is little heat buried within them. I haven't touched warmth all day. More snowflakes land on my shoulders, soaking into my tunic, and I shiver beneath them, my step nearly faltering. Joy is a faraway notion despite my attempt to reach for it.

It's resentment that swells up in my chest and bitters my throat in its stead. My stomach twists, a sick, watery sensation clenching it tight. I squeeze my arm tighter and force myself to ignore the feeling, but it persists.

Tears fill my eyes without warning. Stumbling over an incline buried beneath the snow, I swipe a hand over my face. Everything is so cold and wet that the tears simply mix in with it all. I bite down on my tongue until it hurts, hating all of it, hating the frustration sticking to my jaw like acid. Today wasn't supposed to be like this. These thoughts were supposed to fade and crumble, trampled beneath my strengthened will to survive. Instead the awful, endless urge to peel away my skin, to scratch away the cold with claws of my own, shudders within the frost. Beneath it all, agony is a snarling beast, gnawing incessantly along with the fireless pit in my stomach. Its roar rings only with the sound of despair.

I wanted today to be better, and yet it's worse than it's ever been.

I sniff. The sound must somehow be enough to cut through the howl of the snowy gales, for Edita stops up ahead, sending a scatter of snow flying as she spins on her heels. Her eyes widen, and she's upon me in seconds. She traverses the terrain with the ease of some sprightly animal, while I can barely drag myself after her.

Breath caught against the threat of a sob, I stare down at my feet. A raw redness has crept across them in favour of the pale colour that might blend them with the snow. The cuts left by yesterday's rocky ledges sting in the freezing damp. I swallow hard, stiff against her touch as she lays a hand on my shoulder.

"Is there something wrong?"

Everything is wrong. I could laugh at the melodrama of the thought, though I only shake my head. "Just... just the pain." My voice comes out thick, the words sticking together. I wipe my nose with my glove. "It's fine, really. Keep going. I--I'm just being silly."

Her arms close around me. The embrace is quick, a tight squeeze that releases before the ache in my ribs can translate to a squeak of protest. Her gaze is pointed when she draws back, only a small, probing amusement shifting within them. "You feel a constant agony that is slowly killing you, and you call it silly?"

There's some lightness to her voice that pushes at the base of my heart, the sensation of a few tattered, tickling feathers attempting to form themselves into wings. They're destined to fail, and yet a brief smile flickers over my lips. "I... I suppose when you put it that way..."

"You are allowed to admit you are suffering, you know." Her expression droops, fangs dug into her lip as she looks to the side. "I... wish I could do something about it, but all I can say is that we must keep moving." Her fingers lace with mine. "Can you do that?"

I manage a nod, repeating the action more vigorously as I attempt to stoke something within my core. Edita told me I have a fierce soul. At the very least, I should try to live up to that.

All I find buried there is ashes, a flooded hollow that spikes cold and numb, but I press on. My feet sink prints into the thick blanket of snow. My wet hair slips in front of my eyes, dripping onto my face as if in a continued stream of tears. I brush it aside to observe the waterlogged clouds that shroud the higher mountains. The slope ahead of us is beginning to tilt down, easing us gradually back towards the valley and away from the wispy strings of mist. The snow keeps falling. The ground gets slipperier, forcing me to cling onto Edita's arm to keep myself from plummeting along with it.

Her steady presence at my side is one thing I'm beyond grateful for. Amidst the frozen corners of my mind, I can't recall why I feared her at first. She's a comfort now. I shiver into her, my panting breaths all too shallow and rimmed with frost.

"I gather the snow was not all you hoped for?" she asks.

I shake my head. Most words are suddenly beyond my reach. "It's cold," is all I can manage.

She jolts to a stop, sending me stumbling into her. I remain pressed against her side. Faintly, I realise I'm searching for some kind of warmth in her body, though she's as devoid of heat as the corpse she often appears to be. "Cold," she echoes, her sigh brushing up against my ear. "Of course you are cold."

My frown requires more effort than it should to draw in. "Are... are you not?"

She doesn't answer. I feel her slide away from me, and a wild desperation barrels into my disjointed thoughts, dragging a hand over my eyes. She's still there, standing amid the torrent of snow. She pulls her silver overshirt over her head.

Before I've had time to comprehend it, she's pressing the wet fabric into my hands. "Put that on."

Numbly, I obey. The smooth material settles over the top of my tunic, creasing in the wind. I hug my chest.

"Is that any warmer?"

All I feel is the same damp chill, but I nod. It's something. "Th-thank you."

"No problem." Her arm wraps my shoulders, guiding me onward, and I force my feet to keep moving, a handful of the silver shirt clutched in my fist as if it can anchor me. "Talk to me," she adds, the order louder even than the snow crumbling beneath my steps. "It will distract you."

I lick my lips to regain some feeling in them. "Tell me again where we're headed."

"Lake Katai." The name's syllables are choppy, clicking from her tongue. "Situated far north of here, spread between Oscensi and Neyaibet."

I know of it. Its enormous expanse is sketched onto every map I've seen, though its lettered label has always been a mystery to my eyes; the name's familiarity comes instead from Sarielle's youthful, birdsong voice. "Isn't there a story told of Lake Katai?"

Edita chuckles. It shakes her chest, a warmer, thawing shiver passed between us. "A fairytale."

Her tone speaks of disbelief, yet she tells it to me anyway. A great beast lives within the waters. Every version of the story describes it differently; Sarielle always pictured a huge, feathered creature, coloured in all the shades of azure and emerald, with a mane that sparkled with dew and eyes like moonlit oceans, though Edita contributes many more. An impossibly long sea worm. A canine beast that howls with the tide of a storm. A scaled serpent, adorned with starlight crystals. Each is as devastating and as hauntingly beautiful as the last.

She tells me of the maiden, cursed by the prince she once dreamed to marry, cruelly cast into the lake's waters and drowned. Instead of death, the stars blessed her with this new, terrible form. The tale whispers of tragedy, and warns of her vengeance. Even now, she is said to lurk within those starlit waters, seeking out faithless lovers to destroy and their innocent victims who, just like her, have had their dreams darkened by those who have no heart.

"All utter nonsense," Edita scoffs, yet I listen anyway, lost within the sway of the words. They lull me until my frozen skin is a distant thing, until my mind has wandered too far to pay any heed to pain.

In my imagination, I am that maiden, sinking into the waters, lungs burning and breath locked within my jaw. It hurts now, but it will end. Soon, I will have my freedom.

All I have to do is keep walking.

- ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ -

We don't rest until nightfall, though I remember very little of the place we stop. All I have recollection of is the rough press of bark against my back, and of the ruddy warmth of a small, spluttering fire, easing me into a series of senseless dreams. Then we're moving again. There's an ache in my feet and a chill in my bones, and meaningless conversation, drifted between the two of us as strings to urge us onward. Edita tells me more of her home in Katamen, and of the swordfights played out between her and her brother. I tell her of the cell, of my flame, and of Sarielle. The comforting thrill her name sends through my veins is no less than it has always been.

I don't realise how long I've spent speaking about her until Edita cuts me off with a laugh. "You make her sound like some kind of idol."

Heat battles the frost in my cheeks. "I do admire her very much."

"I can tell." She splashes through a pool of water left behind by the receding snow, the water soaking through her boots, though she doesn't seem to care. I've gathered by now that she is even more immune to the cold than I used to be. "Come on. Is she really all that perfect?"

I push my shoulders back, lifting my chin despite her supporting hold on my arm. "She's the strongest person I'll ever know. She knows all kinds of things, and she's survived a war that has killed many others, and--"

"Alright." She chuckles again, reaching up to ruffle my hair, apparently blind to my scowl. She snags my wrist again before I can duck away. "I get it. She is amazing. You love her." Her gaze flicks sideways to catch mine. "Perhaps I am jealous. I doubt anyone will ever describe me with imagery of sunshine and diamonds."

"Oh." I glance at my feet. Pale, sagging blades of grass poke through between patches of snow. "Well, sorry." I swallow. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think there's anyone who looks at my appearance with any fondness either."

"Really?"

Confusion whips my head up. "Yes?" A dry laugh climbs up my throat, and I gesture to myself with my free hand, taking in my scrawny limbs and ice-pale skin, aware of the lack of light shining in my gaze. Even the black surface of her eyes must reflect more light than the voids my own are designed to be. "Have you seen me?" A tacky bitterness coats my tongue, and I throw a glance to the sky. It's still grey. "You all called me a monster for a reason."

Edita tugs at my wrist, edging me closer to her. A shiver sweeps along my spine, though I fight to press aside the thought of the cold, focused on the shadowed glint to her fangs as she smiles. "I do not believe it," she says. "I think you are rather beautiful."

I wince at the word. "Don't lie."

"I would never lie."

Lips pressed together, I ignore her, though the echo of the simple statement haunts me for all the remainder of that day.

The night is just barely warmer than the last. Edita lights another fire from what dry wood we can gather, and we hunker into a copse of trees, shielded by a criss-cross of branches from the moon's watchful eye. Sleep comes swiftly and easily, though it's harder to keep hold of. A painful tightness in my chest drags me back to waking long before the sun arrives.

Momentarily, I'm still as stone, trapped within the confines of my own frozen body, my lungs starved of air. The breath I gasp in yields nothing. Panic flutters to the surface, drumming my pulse in an oddly slow beat, gradually settling the more time passes. I try to breathe again and succeed. The ache fades into something more dull and distant, although the cold that caused it has gone nowhere, the night's strength having given it a vice-like grip over my muscles. I tremble as I sit up, wracked with twisting shivers as if some writhing, slithering animal is wrapped around my torso.

Just barely, I can make out the fog of my breath amongst the inky blackness. It's still too rapid. I watch it drift and fade, my mind whirling in circles as I try to recall whatever I dreamed of. No answer presents itself other than the hollow lump of dread resting in my stomach.

"Edita?" I whisper.

Silence.

The panic lunges forth again, a whine in my ears, a thrashing in my chest. I search the darkness. The rustle of branches dances above my head, though the trees are hidden from me. It's all so oppressive.

"Edita?" I call again, louder, hearing my own fear burst out. It's almost explosive.

"Shh." Her voice glides in all of a sudden, sending relief trickling through my veins to quash the fear. I feel her hand on his face, fingers tangling in my hair as she brushes it back, and then her lips touching lightly to my forehead. My pulse stumbles, startled.

"Stay calm," she says, soft and quiet, easy to relax into. "I will be back soon."

My breath catches. "Are you going somewhere? Should I come with you?"

She shushes me again. "No." My damp hair slips back over my forehead as she retracts her touch. "Go back to sleep."

Even the mention of sleep crashes a fresh wave of exhaustion over me. Not even ice and snow can combat that. I nod, my eyes already heavy, sliding shut.

Beautiful, that ghostly word utters again, floating at the border of my subconscious. I drift off with a smile on my face.

───── ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ ─────

*creates an entire chapter from nowhere which is just snippets of random dialogue ideas strung together into something vaguely coherent* This is fine, right :D

Nathan is very pretty tho. Everyone tell him how pretty he is :catgun:

- Pup