Sylvie wasn’t sure if they were going to find a way out. The crack in the ice seemed to go on forever. As they walked, the ache had set into her hips. The spiderweb of pain caused each step to strain, and she was getting thoroughly sick of Aizik as the sunlight faded above in the narrow cracks they could see.

“Just let me walk, woman. You look like you can barely stand.”

“If you don’t hush..!” Sylvie pivoted to give him a piece of her mind about his constant nagging. Her hip slammed into the narrow ice wall, and she hissed through her teeth. Her knees nearly buckled, and she was sure she was going to go down when an arm wrapped around her waist.

“I’m sorry for trying to kill your wolf,” Aizik said as he supported her. “Let me make up for it. Ride, and I’ll find us a way out.”

It was as if she had blinked and he was there. In the low light, even the bandage looked less blood-soaked than she thought it would be with a head wound. Even if they weren’t particularly large, they usually bled like crazy.

Sylvie stuck out her lower lip as he lifted her onto the saddle. Her arms crossed, though that helped fight against the growing cold in the icy hall they were in.

“What about your head?”

“Seems steady enough now. There’s no blood leaking through the bandage and I can see fine.” Aizik slid his fingers under the edge of the bandage, and Sylvie felt unsettled. Yet he stood steady even as he unhooked one of the bags off of Iske’s back.

Sylvie slumped into the saddle with relief that she didn’t put into words now that she was off her feet.

“That was humiliating, little sister. I won’t let the hunter ride me again, even if he’s a corpse.” Underneath her, Iske huffed.

“Don’t worry, Iske. I think he’d prefer not to ride a wolf either.”

“You talk to wolves and birds, do you also talk to the pines?” Aizik quipped in between tearing off a piece of jerky. A tilt of his head to watch her as he chewed steadily on the smoked meat that had a hint of flavor from the wood she’d used to make it.

“No, I don’t usually talk to trees.” Sylvie’s face felt hot, and she pulled the parka closer.

Aizik had practically stuck his face into her bag, she realized.

“Just what exactly are you doing?!”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He whipped his head up to blink at her for a few moments. As if trying to let the silence fill as his answer. When Sylvie’s gaze persisted, he gave a slow scruffy grin.

“Well, it smells like jerky… Like your tent did. It’s how the kal’ye dogs found you.”

“If you’re that hungry, then you can have a few pieces.” Sylvie relented despite Iske’s judgmental huff under her. He was wounded, though.

The deep divide in the ice opened up to a mix of ice and rock, a cavernous ceiling now above them. It was too dark to continue until Sylvie dug the torch, dipped in animal fat, from her supplies. Aizik struck the flint she handed him, and the luminous flame filled the cavern.

“I’m not trying to make fun of you.” He seemed to mull over the words before they left his mouth. “I haven’t met anyone who talks to animals.”

Alya shifted from where she was perched among the supplies, looking ruffled.

“He asks so much, sounds so suspicious. I would not tell him any more, Sylvie. He was going to kill us.”

Sylvie fell to silence, studying the tall ice walls. The glint of the torch off of them threw pale light across the long floor. She felt nervous that they couldn’t see the sky above anymore, wandering through what seemed like endless tunnels.

As they stepped into a fractured section of tunnel that seemed narrower than the last, the torch began to illuminate a menagerie of phthalo green lines in the otherwise blue ice. These grew more intense until they hit a wall entirely of color. Aizik lofted the torch high, and streaks of stilted color ran through like the Sky Lights. A twisting, bouncing curve of color chased across the wall.

At the end of this hewn cavernous expanse, the marks became more careful. Despite the fractures, the ice steps looked smooth, arching up in a semi-circle. At the apex of this, the glistening dark blue ice statue stared back at them with shimmering eyes that reflected the torch’s light. It was carved to look like fur, the details intricate, down to the long crystalline whiskers.

“How did we even stumble down this far?” Aizik’s voice echoed down the cavern. With both of them looking at the ice fox, neither missed the sudden fluid motion of it standing up and strolling down the steps toward them. The wry chuckle reverberated against the ice walls, like a high-ringing bell.

There were stories told by campfires during the long nights, when it was too dark to leave the village. Some clung to the back of her mind now, tales of dark shapes that seemed to stretch from the torch to the wall. The air was damp and frigid, and she felt, even under her furs, the bite of cold.

The air around her gave off an iridescent shimmer, and then racing wind blew into both of their faces. She heard Aizik cough, and recovered before he did, opening her eyes against the flurry of snow to see a spirit stepping into being. The ice fox had dazzling white fur that blended seamlessly into the walls of ice around it. Eight crystal tails, each adorned with patterns, swayed gracefully.

Sylvie felt her chest clench as the spirit approached. Crystalline tails swaying behind the beast were lazy, comfortable even.

“Vitha.” She whispered the name, and the fox laughed, tilting its head at her as it drew closer. She was aware suddenly of Aizik’s form leaning over her, shielding her from the fox’s looming form.

Vitha circled them, a sense of amusement in its eyes. The fox leaned their head down, breath sweeping over the both of them, before they strolled past down the crystal halls. To follow and risk some sort of trick, or to flee?

Sylvie looked at Aizik and Iske, before she urged the wolf forward, trailing after the fox. Aizik put a hand on Iske’s saddle, walking with them and keeping pace.