Master of None: A Wings of Fire fanfiction

44.

Content warning: Descriptions of the aftermath of violence/war

Permafrost

I'm no good at being alone.

Shadowhunter has gone ahead with Jerboa. It's critical she be kept as far away from the rest of the Gifted as possible, lest she drain their powers. Every couple of days, she reluctantly trades places with Ember, Aloe, or me.

I wasn't prepared for how much I'd miss her.

In her absence, I've taken over much of the administrative work of running the Gifted: plotting our route forward on the best path possible through the cold, and keeping a hundred dragons flying in the same direction. All day, every day, no matter what.

But our little tent in the city of the Gifted feels so big without her, and the bed feels so quiet and cold. I miss the sound of her breathing, the feeling of her chin resting on my shoulder. The quiet reassurance of her.

It's only temporary.

I stare up at the ceiling of the tent for a moment. I wonder what Shadowhunter is doing right now: if she's up yet. If she's cold in the dark, autumn night. If she can't sleep tonight.

She didn't want to do this job, and neither did I.

But it's beside the point. This is the world we live in.

This is what I'm doing today, whether or not I like it.

***

In an hour, I have the city packed up and everyone is ready to fly. I roll Jerboa's enchanted dice in my palm, and watch it disappear, giving way to the barren, rocky tundra, coated in frost that glistens in the early morning light.

I glance behind me, waiting for Shadowhunter's signal–a flash of light against the dawn. She's following a couple miles behind us, but the horizon is so wide and empty here that it's easy to send basic messages back and forth. The last thing I want to do is leave her and Jerboa behind.

I shift, holding my breath.

Come on, come on, come on...

Ember finds me perched up on a boulder coated in a thin layer of snow. She shivers, hopping up on the rock beside me. "I can't wait to get moving. I'm freezing over here."

"I can't relate," I admit, laughing. "But we'll get going soon, I promise. I'm just waiting to hear from Shadowhunter."

There's a flash of light on the horizon, like a rising star, signaling that she's ready to fly.

"There we go," Ember says, stretching out her wings. "We're ready. Let's get the hell out of here."

I look at her, laughing a little. "You sure you want to? It's only going to get colder."

Ember sighs. "Please don't remind me."

We joke, but I have no idea at what point it's going to become a serious problem for these dragons. They weren't built to withstand the subzero temperatures of the Ice Kingdom, and even if Jerboa's city can conjure them all the fur cloaks they could possibly desire, it still won't protect them.

When I can't sleep at night, I've been reading scrolls about frostbite and its treatment. It haunts me: images of frozen, blackened extremities dancing through my dreams. I can't lead an army of hypothermic SandWings. I can't save them all at once. I know it won't help to ruminate on it, but it doesn't stop me from worrying.