Her Mission To Save Them All || Sword Art Online Fanfic

Chapter 50

POV: Shi 

The wind howls. It screams with snow. The flakes whip against faces and the vulnerable part of my sleeve that hitches upwards as I pull the fold of my hood deeper over my face. My legs drag through the knee-deep white; equally beautiful as it is cold.

"Brother," Saya raises her voice past the roar of the wind. "Please slow down."

I turn, the snow now battering the back of my neck. She holds her golden bow in one hand, digging the tip into the snow in order to crave her way through the sheet as though the bow is the scissors among fabric. I gesture for her hand, which she gives to me. I tug her out of the snowdrift.

Snow crunches and as if in punishment for muddying the white with the dirt of the grass below, the wind howls harder. It catches the edge of Saya's hood, sending her golden curls trailing into the wind. She threads her hand through to catch the mass of it before it turns to frizz.

I catch her bow as it begins to dip and wait for her to tuck her hair back into the hood before handing it back. "I hate this," she says as our journey continues, the sound of our footsteps ringing out across the flat expanse of space.

I roll my eyes, "tell me about it."

"I hate this. I hate this. I hate this."

"Okay," I huff as I feel the feeling recede from my fingers. "I think I get it."

"I hate this. I hate this. I hate this." She repeats, drawing each word out. I imagine the cheeky smile that curves across her face. I know it's there without turning my head.

"Saya," I say into the howling wind in front of me, "you're going to waste all your energy if you keep speaking. We still have a while before we reach the next safe zone."

There's a minute pause in which the only sound is the crunch of snow under our boots and our steps are almost in sync. "How much longer?" Saya asks, pressing her fingers together, cupping them close to the breath that clouds in the air.  "I don't think I can walk for much longer."

"About another 30 minutes," I answer, pausing my advance to look back at my sister. "You should follow in my footsteps, then," I gesture to my footsteps, which are sinking shallower in the snow than her own. "If you step in the places I have, then that means less effort for you."

I reach out my hand to pull her out of the path she has created and onto my own. She reaches, pausing, "But that just means the same amount for you."

"Just shut up and do it." Transferring my weight onto my toes, I push further forward so that she'll take my hand. But as her fingers touch my palm, I snatch it away, a smirk curving up my face.  "Or don't complain about it."

Saya rolls her eyes and takes my hand, the grip squeezed a little tighter than it should. I pull her out of the snow and make sure that her feet land in the shadow of my footsteps. "Why don't you take your own advice, Brother, and stop talking?"

I oblige her request, waiting to see how long it takes before Saya caves in and starts to speak again. My breath that used to cloud the air clogs down my throat; I breathe the snowflakes in and cough them out. Cold takes a chilling grip on the uncovered parts of my body: my hands, my ears, my face. 

Snow wets the part of my leg unprotected by my boots, slowly seeping into every part of my body. I pay more attention to where I step than what's ahead. Every time I raise my gaze, only windblown snowflakes are a part of my vision. I have to blink several out of my eyelashes.