Chapter Text
Wind whistled across the landscape in a low, screeching howl. There wasn’t another soul around for miles. The steadily dropping temperature proved that the ice sheet was close. The sheet spanned halfway down the continent from the Arctic Circle. Migration patterns took the larger animals over the ice during the summer months. Neil tucked his hands under his armpits; he’d lost feeling in his fingers several miles ago. His feet seemed to be solid chunks of ice as he moved, spurred on only by the knowledge of what was following him. Off ahead in the distance, the solid shapes of buildings began to take shape. This close to the ice sheet, most of the trees were still bare, their bark stripped away by the antlers of passing deer.
Amongst the bare, naked trees, evergreens stood out proudly. A light dusting of snow covered their emerald branches. The closer Neil got to the ice sheet, the heavier the snow layer grew. As he walked, shoes sinking into the merciless white powder, squirrels scrambled up the trees and over the white ground. Their bodies were light enough that they hardly made any impression in the snow.
It had been years since Neil had been this close to the ice sheet. He’d traveled across the length of it twice in the past with his mother. They’d followed a migrating herd for a few months before going back south and covering their tracks. Ever since his Uncle had taken him in, Neil hadn’t been away from the city. Several cities still existed and functioned closer to the equator and along the coast. The ice never reached that far down and the waters never froze over. Neil was pleased to note that the survival and tracking skills his mother had drilled into his skull were still around. Case in point were the deer tracks he’d been following for the past day. A herd was close and no doubt readying themselves to travel the ice sheet to find new grazing lands. It was a hoof impression in the snow that settled in his gut and made the hairs at the back of his neck prickle. There was little doubt that his Uncle’s men were closing in on him. Neil hadn’t been subtle with his escape from the city. The furs he hauled behind himself were good for trade, but there wasn’t much in the way of that this far north.
Neil needed to ditch the sled. It left too obvious of a path on where he was going. Once he reached the encampment of buildings up ahead, he’d trade the furs for food and potential knowledge about any movement on the ice sheet. He was probably a several day’s walk from the large geological feature once he reached the encampment.
Neil panted as he walked. Spring had just arrived. The nights dropped below freezing and the days gave way to milder temperatures. His mother used to tell him stories that had been passed down through her family for generations. A time when the sun shined so powerfully that wearing anything on the body was almost too hot. Neil didn’t believe her, but there had been a few days when he was younger when his breath wasn’t visible in the air. They’d enjoyed the heat while it lasted before everything was back to normal.
Now, his hands were numb and he could only feel the strain of rope digging into his shoulder and hand. Neil had lost feeling in his fingers several spans of land back and had now wrapped the braided strands of hair and reeds around his glove. He could still flex them in his glove which was good, but the ache that was starting to grow wasn’t. He just had to get to the encampment's fire and slowly warm some water with his hand in it and get the blood flowing again. It wasn’t his first time dealing with frostbite.
Finally, Neil stood by the edge of a building. It was gray, whatever coloring it had had was stripped away from years of harsh winds. His breath tore through his throat as he rested his forehead against the worn wood. Dusk settled across the land, stretching the shadows into elongated shapes. Slowly, Neil crept his way along the wall. The door to the building wasn’t stopped or blocked in any way, making it easy enough for Neil to slip inside. He unwound the rope from his hand slowly. Neil debated looking at his fingers, curiosity spiking through the numbness. He shoved the urge aside for now, settling into the decent-sized room with his sled and furs. Inside were large jars set along the far wall. Dried plants and what looked like fruits hung from the ceiling. It was a storeroom, Neil decided as he settled against the wall and shuffled to get comfortable.
He just needed to rest his feet for a moment before approaching their communal fire. He’d light a torch as he approached and come slowly to show that he had no ill will to the community. Once at the fire, he’d trade with them, maybe cut them a deal on the furs since he was going to have to ask to sleep in their home. From then, he’d resume his journey north. Now though, Neil let his shaking body settle into the warmth that slowly crept over him. Distantly, he thought about pulling a couple of furs over himself, but being out of the wind was already making him warmer than he expected it to be. Neil let himself shudder and give in to the yawn that fought its way out from his throat. He could smell the fire in the air, the pine sap thick and forcing several more yawns from him.
He didn’t realize that he’d fallen asleep.
It was voices that woke him into a haze-like state.
“—him inside!” The voice was a woman’s, soft but in a harsh whisper that reminded Neil too much of his mother. He would have flinched if his body would respond.
“I want to know why an ice block of a kid is sleeping in my storage room.” This one was deep and gruff. Neil found himself thankful that his body wasn’t properly awake.
The two argued in hushed tones. Neil could only catch a few words between them as his head pulsed and grew foggy again. He was drifting.
A low whistle broke through the muddled haze of Neil’s mind. He felt someone approaching from the shake of the floor. Neil forced his eyes open. The view was blurred. Well-made shoes of leather and wood stopped inches from his face and the whistler crouched down.
“He’s got Marten fur here,” the newcomer hummed. “Bison and moose pelts too.”
The woman sighed. “So he’s a trader—”
“Or a thief,” the newcomer pointed out.
“We need to get him inside and warm him up,” she continued on.
The older man with the gruff voice cleared his throat. “You want to carry him across camp?”
Something poked Neil’s side. Despite his own layers of pelts, it felt sharp. Neil flinched away involuntarily and the newcomer chuckled.
“Good news, he’s not dead.” There was a shuffle of fabric. “Shove him onto his own sled and get him out of here before the others come sniffing around.”
Silence fell and the soft whispering resumed. It was too faint for Neil to pick up on it and soon it became background noise as he drifted back into the warm embrace of exhausted slumber. There was another nudge to his side and he groaned, hardly flinching away this time.
He was poked again. “I don’t want a dead body contaminating our food stores.”
“He’s not dead, Andrew,” the woman snapped.
The newcomer poking him, Andrew , poked him yet again. “Nearly dead.”
The next poke that came was sharper and cold. Metal worked into a hard, fine point, pressing against his skin. Neil yelped, eyes still blurry and the room spinning as he shuffled a few inches away from the knife.
“Look,” Andrew drawled. “He lives.”
Neil’s head pounded and he looked around the room. There wasn’t much to take in from the three people around him. The tallest of them was the older man. His fur hood was down and his arms crossed. The woman was wrapped in warm clothing with her own hood still up, face hidden in the shadows. There were three foxes pacing in the room at the feet of the people. All of them had long, thick hair and white paws. The one closest to Neil was laying on its belly, panting with its eyes fixed on Neil. It was easy enough to assume that the fox had found him and alerted its master. Finally, his gaze slid to the side and found a pale face nestled in a gray fur hood. This man must be Andrew. He was closer to Neil’s age, but the flat look on his face gave up no other information.
Staring at the man before him, Neil muttered the first thought that came to his mind, “Cute,” before falling forward onto his own sled of furs.
Nothing else moved and no one spoke as darkness and warmth finally claimed him.