Ice-Bound Promise [Wattys 2023 Shortlister]

2

With a sigh, Únik dropped the sack of carrots, planted her whale hook in the snow beside the sack and turned back to the girl. Almost as soon as she reached her, the girl's legs collapsed under her, her bright eyes rolling up into her skull. Únik managed to catch her before she fell into the snow, lifting the girl onto her shoulder.

"Find the hut, boy." Hefting the form of the girl into a better position, Únik watched as Barsa sniffed the air and then turned to head off in a direct line through the snow.

If they could reach the hut in time, the great fire beneath the rendering cauldron would stave away the cold, diminishing the effects of the foolhardy swim to the shore. Now, however, clouds had begun to roll in above Únik's head, covering the stars and moons, bring fresh snow with them. The winds had picked up even more, becoming a ferocious gale that pulled and battered against her and the girl over her shoulder.

Up ahead, Barsa continued to lead the way, his powerful legs forging a path towards their salvation, head lowered as he, too, fought against the rising, biting winds. Únik followed Barsa's example, dipping her head, squinting her eyes as she held her gaze against the back end of her faithful hound.

The dog knew the way, whether he could see or not. She only had to keep him in sight, follow in his tracks and they would make it to safety. The ache in her limbs became more intense, the urge to stop and rest more insistent. She knew well this feeling. More than once, when she first came to the wastes, she had almost died through staying out too long. She had learnt, eventually, how to survive.

She had never anticipated something like this. Without having to help this girl, she would have found herself safe and warm at home, by now. She would not have stayed upon the ship too long. Would not have had to swim back to shore. Would not have had to carry a barely dressed girl upon her shoulder.

"The promise!" From behind, the girl moaned in delirium, her words almost dragged away by the whistling winds. "Must keep ... the promise!"

Únik stumbled, catching a foot in a dip in the snow, falling forward and only able to keep hold of the girl due to her stiff, almost unusable arm. Her other hand pressed into the snow, the sound of compacting flakes, crunching and rubbing, touching her fur covered ears. Up ahead, Barsa stopped and turned back.

She only needed to catch her breath for a short while. If she put the girl down, rested beside her for only a few seconds, she could gain a little strength back and begin again. Only a few seconds rest. It couldn't hurt. Her knees crunched into the snow and she fell to the side, the girl tumbling from her shoulder.

Crawling, she attempted to reach the girl, almost laughing at the stupid clothes the girl wore. A strip of colourful cloth wrapped around her small breasts, midriff on show before reaching the waist of the light, multi-coloured material of her wide pantaloons. Such stupid clothing! And slippers upon her feet, as though she readied herself for bed!

Únik did laugh. She laughed as she stopped crawling. Laughed until her face fell into the snow, pricking at the exposed skin about her eyes. At the back of her mind, she realised she had succumbed to the cold. The wastes here, near Tracis' Midden, had finally beaten her. She had fought well. Fought long and hard against the weather and the beasts and seas, but now, through showing compassion, the wastes were victorious against her.

If she could only have set off that little earlier. If the ice around the girl's cabin had broken more easily. If the girl had worn more practical clothing, thus stopping the need for Únik to carry her. If Únik had never run. Never made her mistakes. Never come to this Patrons damned place. If. If. If.

She felt something nudge against her head, then something tapping at her furred hood. It came often and seemed insistent. Something caught hold of the back of her furs and tried to drag her and she felt herself move. Lifting her head, she saw Barsa stood above her, powerful legs digging into the snow, bracing and pulling as his teeth locked into her furs. He was a good dog. Her favourite.