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Day 6. Eye of the storm
“Just a little further,” Felix encourages Sylvain for what feels like the fiftieth time in as many hours. In truth, he has no idea where they are, how long it’s been, or how far they have to go to find some kind of shelter. They might just be wandering in circles for all he knows. The thick layer of snow slows them down, the howling winds means he and Sylvain can barely hear each other, and the heavy snowfall makes it impossible to see more than three steps in any direction.
In other words, the two of them are lost, hungry, and wet. Not to mention Sylvain’s injured leg slowing them down even further. To think the day had started so well, too.
It had just been a regular routine mission to get rid of some bandits making a nuisance of themselves along a well-travelled trade-route. And they had done just that, the bandits being no match for the Blue Lions, especially not with the Professor leading them.
They were supposed to handle the problem quickly, as a snowstorm was on the way. It had been going well at first. In the end, it had been Felix who screwed it up. One of the bandits had ran away, trying to escape. Felix had set off after him without hesitating, with Sylvain right on his heels.
Felix had ended up underestimating the lone bandit, who had hidden in wait to ambush them. The lowlife had jumped out from behind some rocks and cut a deep wound in Sylvain’s leg, as well as a more shallow cut in his arm before the redhead had stuck him down with his lance.
Then, as if determined to add to their misery, the snowstorm had blown up without warning. Now here they are, miserable and lost in the cold, trying to find someplace to recuperate.
“Felix,” Sylvain says, barely audible over the wind. He’s leaning most of his weight on Felix, his injured leg practically useless. Felix has tied a piece of his shirt over the injury and a belt around Sylvain’s leg to slow the bleeding, but he’s going to need proper medical attention soon.
“Don’t talk,” Felix mutters, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, on moving forward. “Save your energy.” There has to be something here. An old cabin, a cave, some conveniently fallen trees, a hole in the snow, anything.
“I’m slowing you down.” As if to prove a point, Sylvain’s arms slips from around Felix’ shoulders and he falls in a heap on the ground. “You should go on ahead. You’ll manage better without dead weight.” He cracks a humourless smile. “At least you can survive, even if I don’t.”
Felix looks down at him in disbelief, shaking his head. Of course Sylvain has to choose now of all times to be noble and self-sacrificing. As if he actually believes Felix will just abandon him here in the snowstorm. He’s going to just assume Sylvain is getting woozy from the blood loss, and isn’t completely aware of what he’s saying.
"Don't be an idiot!" Felix snaps at Sylvain. "You really expect me to leave you here? What kind of bastard do you think I am?!"
"I want you to not die because of me!" Sylvain snaps back, though with considerably less force than Felix.
“Do you remember that promise we made? As kids?” Felix prompts him, grabbing his arm and attempting to pull him up.
“Yeah,” Sylvain mutters, blinking up at Felix and clearly not understanding why he’s bringing it up now of all times.
“Well,” Felix says, tugging on Sylvain’s arm again. “That means we either go together or die here together!” Maybe a bit of an underhanded tactic, bur like hell he’s going to leave his boyfriend to freeze to death in the snow! “Those are your options. Nothing else.”
“Not fair,” Sylvain grumbles, but finally grasps Felix’ hand and lets himself be pulled up until he’s once again swaying on unsteady feet.
Felix, glad Sylvain has stopped arguing, pulls at his arm again to get him moving. Sylvain ends up leaning heavily on Felix, as his injured leg can’t support his weight, but at least they’re finally moving.
Together, they keep going. Slowly, but with determination. Looking to find someplace safe as the storm rages around them.