sweden's sagittarius season

Red

On the edge of the forest, Brian looked at a wasteland of imperfect white and blue, In between the snow and the black bark of the trees on the other side of the plane, a speck of red caught his attention. Despite the fuzziness of his vision, it didn't fade into the icy background. What it was, though, he had no idea. He squinted, and the red spot resembled a little scarecrow with its arms stretched out. His eyes couldn't make out any facial features, but he saw a round head colored tan. Much tanner than himself, as he almost blended in with the snow. He settled on the fact that it must be a scarecrow, even though there were no crops to protect. Just a barren plane of snow.

But it moved. The little creature flailed its arms up and down. It was a kid. It was his own kid. He was sure of it. 

"Cody," he called out, remembering that to be the name of his child. "Cody!" No amount of calling out for him worked. He just waved his little arms. He must be stuck! 

Brian tried to run, but he stumbled through the snow. If he wanted to get to him, he would have to take it slow. He entered the emptiness of the plane, step by step, careful not to slip. The snow crunched under his feet. He flinched with every step, the loud crunching jarring him. It was the only loud sound. Everything else was muffled, even his own voice as he called for his child. Did the snow absorb that much sound? Surely. It was just the snow.

His breath, his footsteps, his voice echoing yet muffled, it all fell silent. He knew of another sound, but he didn't hear it. He felt it, perhaps through vibrations, or an innate ability to predict the future. The former sounded more outlandish. He turned, now halfway across the plane. The edge of the woodland kept secrets, but he felt the eyes of the trees peer back at him.

The eerie feeling urged him to quicken his pace. He continued to slip and stumble as his gaze stayed glued to the ground in front of him. He kicked through the thick snow, straining his legs more and more. They felt tingly and weak, and he was forced to stop to breathe. The cold air caused spasms in his lungs. The snow muffled even his coughs.

A loud sound whirled under the snow, like whimpers of the damned, or the monster that killed them. It echoed, thumping, wailing, threatening him. He stood frozen, listening. He needed to run. 

Two heavy steps into his sprint and the ground gave out beneath him with a crack and shatter. Ice cold fire engulfed the lower half of his body. His hands clawed through the snow and scraped over the ice. He tried to hold on, but the ice split right under his torso, plunging him into the water. It felt like needles stabbed every inch of his skin. He didn't want to move, but he couldn't stop moving. He couldn't stop breathing. The water hurt his teeth, his throat and his lungs. He kept sinking.

He looked up from where he fell. Slabs of ice floated around the opening, and the rest of the ice was dark blue. It was almost black from the snow cover. The void. It looked like his bedroom at night, while he struggled to sleep. It felt the same. It felt like drowning. 

Two hands pulled him by his clothes, barely bringing him above the surface before he fell in again. His savior didn't thrash or kick, instead they methodically dragged their bodies onto the ice until it stopped breaking.

It took tiny, several gasps of just enough air to force the water out of his lungs. The water from his lungs melted the snow. After each repulsion of water, he inhaled a little bit more air, only to cough it all away again. His body trembled violently.

"Let it out," Stefan said, rubbing his back as he held him. "You're okay." He muttered in Swedish, and Brian knew it to be a curse because of the way he hissed through his teeth. 

He finally got enough air to speak, though his voice was jagged and broken up. "My… k-kid…" He lifted his head, looking over Stefan's shoulder like a newborn kitten. Bright white flooded his vision as he searched the trees. There was no sign of red. 

"There's no kid, Brian," he recited. "You're just tired."

Brian hid his face in Stefan's chest, breathing as hard as he could to warm up his face. He coughed several times, and despite the pain in his lungs, all that breath made him warmer.

Stefan carefully stood up with Brian in his arms. Somehow, he made it across the frozen lake without a single stumble or crack. The Swede made it look easy. Embarrassment and fear washed over Brian, yet he didn't feel heat in his face like usual.

"I'm so cold," he whined, his teeth chattering as he spoke.

Stefan's voice was so soft he could barely hear it. "Just hold on, okay? You're still shivering, so that's a good sign…"

Brian groaned. "I'm so cold." It's all he could think about. 

Eventually they made it to Stefan's home. The inside was barely warmer than the outside, and Stefan cursed the same way he had before. He lay Brian on the couch and carefully removed his soaked clothes. Brian curled in on himself and shivered, listening closely for the creaking wood under Stefan's boots. Soft, heavy blankets were layered over him, insulting him from the chill inside the house.

Stefan disappeared for a moment. He came back, now in dried clothes. He huffed a breath into his hands, then walked in and out. He piled wood into the fireplace, then kindling, and with a few flicks of an old lighter it catches fire. The fire silhouetted Stefan, and his blond hair almost glows like a halo.

Brian's eyes fluttered and closed on their own. He felt a comfortable weight on his chest, and looked through his eyelashes to find Stefan's head resting on his chest. He hummed, and Stefan said, "I'm listening to your breathing... Do you feel warm?" Brian nodded. "That's good. Try to sleep, okay? Just sleep."