Lone Cold
by Jeffrey Urbanski
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----> The cold bit her harder than the wolf had.
----> Mira pulled the cowl of her cloak farther down to cover her face and pushed her rag-covered legs onward through the deep snow. Her lips were chapped and bleeding, her ears had split from frostbite, and her feet were numb from running as well as from the cold. Her legs were exhausted. Her stomach was empty. Her hope was gone. All Mira wanted was a warm, safe place to curl up and die.
----> The blood stemming from her arm had filled the crude bandages and dripped down her hand. Crimson polka-dots followed her footsteps across the white landscape. They will track her, she knows. They will track her and they will kill her. Then they will eat her. She'll be dead and no one will ever find her dog-gnawed bones, buried beneath the mountain's wintry embrace.
----> Mira marched further. She did not want to die. Not like that.
----> She had been separated from her hunting party when the storm hit. It hadn't come without warning. They had all known that the weather would make for tough going, but the village had no choice. There was no food and the people were hungry.
----> The elders had sent the hunters out as a last resort. They could either risk going out in the storm to hunt or they could hole up for the winter and starve. Huntmasters Kiran and Sedj had advised against it, but there was no option. When they asked for volunteers, Mira stood forward.
----> She was the only child of Huntmaster Orphyk. Her mother had died in childbirth and Orphyk had never remarried. He was the Grand Huntmaster of the village and the elders relied on Orphyk regarding all matters of the hunt, from the raising of dogs and the training of young hunters to the organization and overseeing of the hunts themselves. Huntmaster Orphyk died of the Shivers only six weeks ago. His old body could not endure another mountain winter.
----> Mira felt obligated more than anything else. She was not a very good hunter and could never hope to fill her father's role as Huntmaster, but she had nothing else to cling to. What else would she do? Wait behind while others risked their lives to bring back game from the forests? Her father would be proud of her decision. Her father would admire her courage, admire her loyalty. Besides, she was a decent tracker.
----> Little good it did her. When the winds kicked up to lashing speeds, it created "white-outs" that blinded the steady progress of the hunting party. They were traversing a narrow trail that wound up through the mountains when the first man fell screaming from the ledge.
----> His name was Lenik. He was her father's best friend. His was her second home. Lenik's daughters had been friends with Mira practically since birth. They had both died from the Shivers last month, a week apart. The rope that connected Lenik and the other hunters together at the waist had snapped from the severe cold, leaving him tragically helpless in his fall. When he hit the bottom, his body disappeared in a cloud of white and his screams silenced.
----> After that, the winds got worse. As if taking encouragement from the Lenik's death, the slashing breezes increased their attack. The cold air blasted through winter skins and froze the flesh of each hunter. The frigid temperatures made the hunting party sluggish. It froze the moisture in their eyes and frosted their lungs as they breathed. Even the dogs had begun to whimper and shake.
----> When the mountain started to rumble, it was clear the hunting party was not meant to find game this day.
----> Falling white charged and tumbled down the mountainside, like wicked angels raging an attack down upon the earth. The impact sent most of the party sprawling down into the valley below.
----> By the time Mira came to, most of her companions had been smothered under the weight of the hard-packed ice and snow. She dug herself out and checked as many bodies as she could. Every one of them was dead, peacefully dead and without the looks of despair and starvation scraped into their faces.
----> Mira felt sad. The hunters' suffering was minimal and for that she could not weep, but she knew the suffering in her village would continue. This hunt was the last resort and the final hope for her village's survival. Friends that she had grown up with, neighbors who she had known her entire life, would die the slow and agonizing death that is starvation. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
----> As she thought about it again, the tears began to well up once more. The blood on her arm had become a slushy pink, though the pain had subsided substantially.
----> The howling of the wolves reached her, carried on the back of the wind. Mira wiped her cheeks where tears had formed thin, icy streaks. She hurried her pace onward, though she had no real destination. Walking through the snowy forest, images of her fellow huntsmen followed her like the beasts that bit her arm.
----> Mira looked about her. In the distance, she could just barely make out the gray forms making their way toward the avalanche site.
----> Wolves. Not just wolves, but great, gray-maned dire wolves. Mountain wolves of abnormal size and a reputation for viciousness.
----> Mira looked about her. She looked into the faces of the dead and the dazzling blanket that had suffocated them. She looked about her and then she ran.
----> She ran hard, trudging through the hard-packed snow. The growls and snarls of the pursuing wolves helped her make haste. Her legs pumped at top speed as she attempted to evade the wolf-pack. They closed the distance between themselves and their prey determinedly.
----> Despite her situation, Mira felt pity for the creatures. After all, they suffered and starved right along with her village. They were merely doing what she and the hunters had come here to do: find game, kill it, and feed. They were following their instincts for survival, just as the elders had done when they sent out the hunting party.
----> Her short, human legs, already frozen from her temporary encasement in the snow, were no match for the speed of the wolves. They brought her down quickly and effortlessly. Mira fought them off as best as she could, her only weapon a short dirk. One of the snapping, snarling creatures got his jaws locked onto her arm and ripped the flesh from her bone. Mira squealed and dropped her dagger. Her scream backed the wolves way from her momentarily.
----> The wolves closed in and crouched readying for the final pounce. It is over, she resigned. How long would it take for her to die? Hopefully, she would lose consciousness quickly from loss of blood. She was going to die in the fangs of a wolf. They would fight one another for her meatiest parts, probably battling for her belly. Only her bones would be left behind, but not before they were stripped painfully clean of their meat. It was fitting that the only daughter of the Grand Huntmaster perish in the maws of beasts.
----> And then they were gone. The wolf pack disappeared into the white-out behind her, leaving no trace of their passing. No prints. No tracks. They vanished into the snowy white backdrop. Not one flake had been overturned by the hungry attack of a dozen wolves. Mira would have blamed her imagination save for the agonizing drip of blood from her arm.
----> The coppery scent of it made her stomach cramp up. She ripped off a strip of cloth from her cloak and did her best to seep up the crimson fluid and cover the exposed white of her bone. The wound throbbed in coincidence with her heartbeat and made pulsating aches swim through the rest of her body.
----> Hours later, the scent no longer made her nauseous. Feeling returned to her frostbitten feet. Pain from her toes raced up her legs to her brain and compounded the already unbearable pain in her bitten arm. The howling wolves, crying out the pain of their hunger, pursued her still. She fell down to the valley floor in despair. There was no hope. Even if she managed to avoid the wolves, she was losing too much blood to make it back to the village and that was if she could be certain which direction that may be. No, better to die quickly and get it over with. The wolves would ensure that.
----> Two feral eyes stared at her from out of the frosty field of white. They approached and she welcomed death. Mira readied herself to join her father in Afterlife and closed her eyes. Please, she thought, let it be done quickly. She opened her eyes to find her father standing over her.
----> "Stand up, child," he said to her. He wore a gray robe and stood on top of the snowdrift nearest her. Was this the death she had asked for?
----> "Poppa?" Mira breathed.
----> "Yes, child. Come to me."
----> Mira smiled and more tears escaped her eyes and froze to her face. He felt warm when she hugged him. Warm and safe.
----> "Mira," he said, running his fingers through her hair, "Mira, why do you cry?"
----> "I am crying because I love you, Poppa."
----> The two embraced for many moments before the old man breached the silent reunion.
----> "Mira, I have come to be with you for your Change."
----> "Change?"
----> "Yes, child."
----> "Am I dead, Poppa?"
----> "No, you are not dead."
----> "Am I dying?"
----> "In a matter of speaking, Mira, yes, you are dying."
----> More silence brings Mira to hug her father again.
----> "Are you afraid, child?"
----> "No, Poppa. I'm not afraid."
----> "Good."
----> They hug each other more and Mira's tears turn to crystals that fall to the ground. The sound of crunching snow interrupts them. It is a wolf.
----> Orphyk feels his daughter tense up. He holds her, shushing her and running his fingers through her hair some more.
----> "Do not be afraid, Mira. The wolf is here to watch your Change as well."
----> "What Change?"
----> "You were bitten by a wolf."
----> "And I am dying from the bite?"
----> "Yes, child, but not the way you are thinking." Orphyk pauses a weighs his next words carefully. "He was the wolf who bit you, child. He is here to watch you Change. Change into one of us."
----> Oddly, Mira is not startled or the least bit alarmed by this. She hugs her Poppa closer still and finds some relief in the news. Her tears stop and she looks up into her Poppa's eyes. His warm, peaceful smile makes her smile. Orphyk holds Mira away from him and removes the crude bandage she had applied to her arm.
----> "You see?"
----> The wound is gone. In its place, a thin scar runs the length of her forearm. Mira traces it with a finger. It is cold to the touch.
----> The wolf whimpers a high-pitched whine, short and precise.
----> "Yes, it will be soon, Lenik."
----> Mira looks down at the wolf that was once her lifelong neighbor and friend. Her eyes moves to her father who hugs her once more. Sobbing into his chest, she squeezes him tightly and asks, "Will it hurt, Poppa?"
----> "No, child. It will not hurt."
----> "Then I am ready."
----> And then Mira died.
----> It was not the painful, horrifying metamorphosis she expected. It was the peaceful, graceful switch from awkward human animal to regal lupis immortal.
----> Three gray-furred wolves disappeared into the white-out beyond where the three humans had once stood, leaving no trace of their passing. No prints. No tracks. They vanished into the snowy white backdrop and were gone.
