Wild ― Piper McLean

―xii. verona and piper cuddle for their lives

SHE WAS SO COLD. There was no part of her body that didn't feel the chill, as if the winter air had seeped into her bones and made a home there. No heat, no fire or warm bath or steaming cup of hot chocolate would chase this cold out of her.

"Verona," someone gasped, voice shaking with cold and fear and the knowledge that Death loomed above them, that Mors's hand was outstretched and waiting.

"I'm here," she whispered, her own voice breaking like ice under her feet. "I'm right here. It's okay." A truth and a lie, both bitter on her tongue.

"I'm scared," the voice whimpered.

She couldn't feel the tears through the numbness of her cheeks, but they blurred her vision as they spilled. "I know," she said. "But I'm here. I'm right here."

He was so young, too young. They all were.

Why had he brought them here? How could he march them to their deaths and still think he was the hero?

"My brother—" he gasped. "Is he—?"

"He's okay," she lied, because how could she tell him he was gone, too? How could she tell him they were all falling like dominoes, collapsing to their knees under the weight of a false destiny and a liar's command?

She never knew if he believed her. His chest stilled in that moment, his hand going limp in her own. He was gone.

He was three days away from his fourteenth birthday, and he was dead.

Verona looked around the icy battlefield, her heart a crumbling stone in her chest.

They were all dead.

🌿

When Verona opened her eyes, she was still shivering. Someone was holding her, arms warm and secure around her.

"Verona!" a voice gasped above her. "Thank god!"

Verona took in her surroundings. A campfire blazed next to her, turning the air sharp with smoke. Firelight flickered against rock walls. They were in a shallow cave, but it didn't offer much protection from the howling wind outside or the snow falling. It might've been day or night—the storm made it too dark to tell.

"What—?" Verona started to ask, her teeth chattering.

"You're okay." The arms around her tightened, and Verona realized they were Piper's, and it was Piper's voice next to her ear. Suddenly the goosebumps weren't just from the cold. "Everything's okay."

There was already a blanket around her, but Jason leaned over and laid another one around her and Piper.

"What happened?" she managed.

"You punched Midas in the face," Jason informed her. "...And then turned into gold."

Verona groaned. "Did I at least break something?"

"His nose," Jason said. "And his ego, I think."

"I'll take it."

"How are you feeling?" Piper asked, her brow furrowed in concern, which was kind of (extremely) cute.

"Like I took a part-time job as one of Father Winter's statues," Verona muttered.