71

Chapter 20

The light flickers again, and suddenly I'm around the edge of the mountain. Fox's sled continues on a straight path, and I catch it just in time, pulling it around to a stop.
Finally, the wind isn't battering me. I'm on the other side of the mountain, blocked from the main force of the storm by a thousand tons of stone. I gasp in relief, collapsing against the wall of the path, and observe my surroundings.
The light I had seen was a fire, a gorgeous, flickering beacon of warmth. Now, I see where all the other families had gone. When me and Stone stayed behind, shooting down Servants of the Order, they had continued on. When the storm had come, they had all stopped here, in the shelter of the towering mountain.
Fires are scattered up and down the path on this side of the mountain. Grouped around them, are the sole survivors of the attack- Depressingly few. Mentally, I estimate the number- Maybe thirty, perhaps forty. I try to comfort myself with the thought that people further on in the trek might have taken shelter on the same side further up the mountain, but the consolidation is little.
Stone emerges behind me, Clay's hands stuck under his scarf, face buried in his hair. "We're s-safe, C-Clay," He says through gritted teeth, prying the child's hands off his neck. He sets the kid on the ground, and rubs his throat, where there are ten little red dots in his flesh.
"That was f-fun." He says sarcastically, as Clay runs and attaches himself to his father's leg once more.
"N-no kid-d-ding. Let's bu-build a f-f-fire, I th-think-k my hands are ab-b-out to fall off-f." My arms dangle loosely at my sides, covered in goosebumps, and I numbly wave my pale blue-tinted hand in front of his face, unable to wiggle my fingers.
We stride over to the edge of the path, as far away from the edge as possible, finding a good-sized overhang that might just protect us from excess snow. I gladly slump, still shivering, in a nook, my arms pulling my knees up to my chin in an effort to keep my teeth from chattering.
"S-stone? M-maybe a f-fire w-w-would b-be-be nic-ce...." I stutter, breathing warm breaths on my hands.
Stone stiffly shrugs off his pack and swords, clumsily stacking them in the little shelter. He fumbles with the drawstring of his pack, and barely manages to get it open. He pulls out what's left of our tinder, and a couple sticks, and the flint. Then he reaches for his knife, and holds the tools in his hands. They're shaking from the biting cold.
He steels himself, and strikes the blade on the rock, but it's a feeble attempt. The dagger clatters on the stone, and he raises his hand to do it again. The knife completely misses the stone, and cuts Stone, (See, it's too common an object for a name.) opening up his knuckle above the thumb. Crimson-black blood drips to the ground, splattering on the rock. The wind was so fierce, any snow that might have gathered on the mountain was swept away, revealing the bare rock.
"I- I can't." Stone mutters, his hand shaking. He presses the small cut to his lips, and pulls his hand away, biting his lip. "My hands are n-numb." He shakes his head, staring apologetically at me with deep blue eyes... Those eyes... Hmm? Oh, yeah, fire. We're dying of cold, that's right.
"W-why don't we ask one of them if-f w-we could j-jus-st warm up for a s-s-second?" I suggest, shuddering as a chill goes up my spine.
"T-they won't l-let us. They d-don't trus-st us-s. An-nd they sh-shouldn't." He adds, narrowing his eyes and and glaring distrustfully around at all the huddled families, and groups.
"Whatever." I manage to say without stuttering, standing shakily, and stumbling over to the nearest group.
Sitting around the blazing, wonderfully hot fire, is a couple. They're both beyond Impure, more Beast than I am. The man has tusks, and his entire body is covered in coarse brown hair. The woman would be beautiful, even with her smooth shaven head, if not for the enormous fangs jutting from her upper jaw, between her lips. Okay, so they weren't the most attractive couple.
"Excuse m-me," I say behind them, making them jump. They both turn and face me, looking at me strangely.
"Um, w-we jus-st escap-ped the s-storm. C-could we j-just warm up at your f-fire for a m-moment?" I say. I honestly amen't trying to stutter- I'm shivering so bad, though, I can't help it.
The woman snarls, curling back her lips, and revealing that her other teeth are also pointed. The man says something obviously meant to be harsh, but it's in a guttural, grunting tongue that I don't understand. I'm pretty sure he's swearing, so I'm fine with being ignorant. He bares his tusks at me, grunting like a hog, with the woman snarling at me.
I turn away, and see Stone behind me.
"Lovely." He says shortly, going back over to the fox people.
"I-I'll jus-st try someone else." I say stubbornly, turning and going over to the next fireplace.
"Um, excus-se me." I say, and the two men turn around. I automatically see they're brothers- the resemblance is impeccable. Perhaps even twins. They both have wet animal noses, and droopy hound dog ears. Their tails thump against the ground, poking though the back of their trousers. They're about the same age as Stone's grandfather, but there is no sense of will and power about them.
"Yes?" One of them says in a voice just as droopy as his appearance.
"Me and m-my friends j-just came out-t-t off-f the s-storm, could w-we warm up at-t your f-fire for a m-moment-t?" I say pleadingly. I don't feel like being rejected again, and walking over to the next fire, where a single intimidating looking Beast-Man sat, almost reptilian in appearance.
"What's the password?" The other man says, unexpectedly.
"Huh?" I frown, caught off guard.
"The password. The codeword. If you want to use our fire, you need to know the passcode." One of them says, nodding knowingly.
"Um, ok-kay." I say, looking over my shoulder to my 'camp'. Stone is walking over to me from our sheltered corner. I turn back to the men, thinking hard.
"Uh, p-please?" I say. Both of the men look at each other, and laugh out loud, clutching their stomachs and bending over, as if I had just told a hilarious joke.
"No! That's not the password!" One of them chuckles joyously, smiling like it was all a great game. I'm becoming concerned about their mental condition, and considering just turning away, when they speak again.
"It's not! Please!" They choke out, wiping tears away from their eyes.
"The password, is-" One of them begins, and the other finishes, both grinning manically.
"Password!" They cry out, laughing at their own apparent joke.
"Oh, I s-see..." I say uncertainly, as they slap their knees, guffawing with laughter.
"So, um, can I just warm my hands?" I say, glancing back over my shoulder. Stone was a couple feet away, and he stops at my shoulder, frowning at the men.
"What's the password!" One of the men chuckles happily to me, ignoring Stone.
"Um, p-password." I say flatly.
"Nope!" They both cry out, and one falls off his perch on a stone, rolling in the dirt, still laughing.
"But you just said-" I start, but the one who kept his seat cuts me off.
"We told you the password! So we had to change it. We couldn't have anyone going around with our secret code." He nods, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Let's go." I mutter to Stone, turning to leave.
"Wait!" The men cry behind us, and I turn tiredly.
"W-what?" I ask exasperatedly.
"You can use the fire! We were just messing with you!" One of them says, still shaking with constrained laughter.
"You don't-t want the p-password?" I say uncertainly, not wanting to go through all that again.
"No, no, it was just a bit of fun, honest." The one on the ground chuckles, propping himself up, and hoisting himself into his seat.
"T-thanks," I say gratefully, exhaustedly striding past them to the other side of the fire, Stone following.
"Who're you?" Stone says distrustfully, though he gratefully sticks his hands almost into the fire. The wonderful heat burns against my freezing, icy skin, and I feel it spreading over my body, like I'm unthawing.
"I'm Rugs and this is-" The one who had fallen off his chair says, and the other one cuts in.
"Bugs." He says, and they both laugh happily, though I'm still trying to figure out at what, when they move on.
"We're twins." Rugs says. Stone gives me a sidelong, perplexed glance, as if asking, 'who are these guys?'
"Identical," Says Bugs.
"Identical twins." They say together, then look at each other and laugh again, like it was all a good old time.
"Uhuh, yes, we can see that." I say, focusing on the spreading warmth in my body. Once Stone decides he can move his fingers just enough to start the fire, we can be rid of these two fruitcakes.
"So, you two seem happy enough. Why are you going to the rebels?" Stone says next to me, wiping the dripping blood from his thumb onto the inside of his pant-leg.
"Why?" Rugs leans forward, the smile suddenly gone from his face.
"'Cause we got nowhere better to go!" Bugs suddenly cries, face red from laughing, and they both glance at each other again and fall into another fit of laughter.
"Well said!"
"Indeed!" They say to each other. I eye them nervously. They seem like naïve old men, probably harmless, but you can never be too sure. I kept waiting for one of them to pull out a gun and shoot us down.
I position myself so I can unthaw my feet, though half of me doesn't want to. I know that once the numbness is gone, the pain will set in, and it will be worse, given the deep gash on my right foot, the blood slowly unfreezing and dripping away. My hands and face are already throbbing, almost to hot to stand.
"Well, thank you for letting us use your fire, there aren't many people as hospitable as you two." Stone says, getting to his feet and stretching, meaning he thought he was good to go. I stand as well, my joints popping after being so stiff and turn to go.
"The pleasure was ours. Maybe we'll get a chance to chat again at the peak!" One of them, Rugs, or perhaps Bugs, calls after us. Sweet old men, I think. A little tiresome, a little crazy, but nice enough.
"Told you I could find someone." I say, nudging Stone in the shoulder. He bites his lip, as if restraining himself from saying something, and we reach our little corner.