Dangling over a chasm was not how Silvye wanted to spend her morning. One hand in front of the other, everything ached as she pulled herself toward the mouth. Above, Urthgar was hauling Iske up with slow pulls, though the wolf didn’t look happy about it, his tail tucked between his legs.

Silvye felt as if she’d pulled every muscle in her body when Aizik leaned down to gather her those last few feet, pulling the rope upward until she could slide into Iske’s saddle. He put a hand on her back to steady her. Despite the gloves, Silvye’s hands felt raw with cold, and she pressed them into her lap, praying that they’d warm soon.

“Your body is a bit broken, Silvye.” Urthgar grabbed the sled, walking next to them in the snow.

“Been that way since I was a little girl. I guess I just get tired out easier than others.”

“You did well, considering. Most would’ve frozen when the ache set in, or in fear.”

Silvye settled back in the saddle, watching the sunlight play across the fields of snow again.

Aizik chuckled. “You’ve got spirit, Silvye. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

The journey through the frigid landscape continued, and Silvye watched the vast expanse of snow. A jackalope here or there, but no larger prey, under the midday sun. Their collective breaths soft pockets of tiny clouds as they trekked on, snow crunching beneath paws and boots.

“Where are you headed now?” Aizik had paused, one hand on her saddle. He was still injured and winded, and it was starting to show.

“I don’t know, I was headed… I was just traveling.” Silvye nibbled on her bottom lip under her scarf, feeling the chaffed skin. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen any tracks of my family. So, I’ve just been alone with Iske and Alye.”

Ahead, the ridge began to rise, leading to a ridge that overlooked the valley beyond. Urthgar paused, looking over both of them.

“If you’ve nowhere in particular you’re going, follow me.” He urged lightly. “I’m sure between Aizik and I, we can hunt until everyone is healed up, then you can decide if you want to go separate ways.”

“And where are you headed, Urthgar?” Silvye shifted in the saddle to take him in.

“I’m looking for my kids and my wife.” Urthgar rubbed the back of his neck, looking across the snow. “And there’s a few of us out here, trying to fight back against the Pale God. It’s ugly what it’s doing to the landscape.”

Silvye glanced at the two of them. At least only one of them had tried to kill her (though, Aizik’s apology had been given several times now...) “Might as well stick together in the Long Dark, hm?”

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Iske huffed in agreement, raising his head. ”Urthgar smells like friend, little sister.” He agreed, though both were surprised when Urthgar turned to them.

“I am friend, wolf brother.” A soft chuckle.

“…You can hear him.” Silvye breathed, a smile crossing her face.

“Yes. I can hear most of our animal friends that care to speak.” Urthgar rubbed the back of his neck.

“I haven’t met anyone who can.” Silvye and Iske crested the ridge, and Aizik put a hand on the saddle, stopping both wolf and rider, as well as Silvye’s growing excitement.

“Down, low.” He murmured, and Iske dropped to his belly, Silvye pressing herself to his back. Urthgar peeked around. Under the overhang of rock, four figures hunched.

Long, spindled fingers dug into the bloated, rotting carcass of a kal’ye dog, ripping what sinew was left off of bone. Their leathers gave them little protection, signs of frostbite leaving patches on their skin. What skin they could see was smeared with blood and grime.

The largest of them, a man with a wild mane of unkempt hair and beard, broke the bones to get at the rotting meat, mumbling incoherently between bites.

Beside him, a woman, her hair a tangled mess of knots and ice, cradled a piece of meat close to her chest as if it were a precious treasure. She gnawed at it with sharp teeth that tore as easily as a wolf’s did, separating it from the bone, and then she began to bite the bone, as if to sate the urge.

Urthgar slid back out of sight, giving a soft grunt toward Iske, who began to crawl on his belly out of sight. They seemed too engrossed in their ‘meal’ to notice the group side stepping around the overhang, climbing down the slope to get away before they were spotted.

Silvye’s hands were shaking, her cheek against Iske’s fur. She could feel every tense muscle as they moved. Aizik led the way once they’d gotten to the slope of the ridge, sliding down the pathway.

Somewhere on the wind, there was something like a scream. A high, hollow sound that echoed from the top of the ridge. Silvye jerked her head back to look, and found the lady watching them, the sound emanating from the bloodied, black cavern of a mouth.

Silvye swallowed the lump in her throat as all four of them glanced back. Alye tucked her feathers in, ruffled in distress.

“Keep moving. We’re more of a threat than they are, and they’ve got a kill. We need to get as far away as possible before they run out of the carcass or they’ll try their luck at picking us off.” Urthgar signaled them to move faster, urging them into the thicker pine woods that began to clutter the landscape.

As they descended, that haunting sound slowly faded, swallowed by the vastness. The echo lingered in Silvye’s mind though, and she looked back at Urthgar.

“Their actions don’t make sense. That meat will make them sick. Is there really no prey left this far south?”

“There was plenty prey, if they weren’t overhunting. Whole lot of them are mad…the same thing that was affecting Aizik, there.”

Urthgar grunted, before he hurried the group onward. It wouldn’t do to stand and talk while they’d been spotted. He was only able to push their little group so far before Silvye needed a rest though, and they gathered around firelight to roast several jackalope on a spit, turning the meat slowly to sear all the sides.

Aizik bit into it greedily when it was pulled off the spit, juice dripping down his chin into his beard. That earned a quiet laugh from Silvye as she waited for hers to cool.

Overhead, the stars were blotted out with fluffy clouds that ballooned from big, dark centers. Urthgar watched them in between rubbing salt from a pouch he carried over the root vegetables Iske had sniffed out, tossing them onto the coals to cook long and low.

“I will keep watch. Rest, little sister.” Iske’s keen eyes and keener sense of smell would serve well in the dark, and he slid into the bushes, his tail vanishing amidst the darkening woods.