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Underway on the sleds once more, Cho and Trini rode alone, except for Yuta driving. Ahnai moved to a sled with Siqiq and his mother to monitor the boy.
The passing landscape—tree and rock after endless tree and rock and mountains—felt eerily calm, belying the danger from the approaching storm and the quinniq. There were no signs of the creatures, but Cho couldn’t shake the unease that they were following.
“What’s wrong?” Trini asked.
She eyed Cho’s hands, one of which gripped the rail of the sled so tightly it hurt. Cho relaxed her grip. Her other hand rested across her arm, fingers splayed, ready to fire her suit weapon.
“What if the quinniq attack again?” Cho asked.
“The scouts are running a perimeter. They’ll alert us if the quinniq or anything else breaks it.”
Cho shook her head. “The quinniq can hide under the snow. What if the scouts miss them?”
Trini smiled. “The scouts gather visual data on multiple wavelengths—scan for heat signatures, decipher audio at high and low levels, and even detect scents. They’ll know if the quinniq get too close.”
“That’s good,” Cho said. “We’re not depending on me to spot them.”
Trini cocked her head, brow wrinkling. “Why would you worry about that?”
Cho studied her hands, finding it hard to answer. “I didn’t... I was afraid... Siqiq almost died because of me.”
“What are you talking about? We saved him.”
“No.” Cho shook her head. “You did. You scared the quinniq off.”
“Because you found him.”
“And if I’d been there alone?” She saw herself frozen back in the forest, the quinniq dragging Siqiq toward the hole in the rocks.
“You would have saved him,” Trini said.
Cho shook her head again. “When the Quinniq had him, I tried to shoot. Wanted to, but I was afraid. And when I did I missed.”
Trini laid a hand on Cho’s arm, squeezing. “It was chaos. Siqiq’s cries echoed off the rocks all around. I had no idea from where. Inksuuk and Yoskalo ran the wrong way. I’d have followed them if not for you. We saved him thanks to you.”
Cho wanted to believe that, but she hadn’t known. She’d guessed and gotten lucky. That wasn’t heroic.
“It was a mistake for me to come,” Cho said. “I thought I could be like Riko.”
“Who?”
“My older sister.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister. I’ve never met her.”
“She’s fearless.” Cho sighed. “But before we came to Space City she was in an accident. She’d gone rock climbing with friends. During her ascent something startled her. She fell. The drop fractured her spine. Left her paralyzed from the waist down.” Tears filled her eyes at the memory of her sister lying in a hospital bed, unable to do anything for herself.
Trini opened her mouth to say something, then closed it.
“I came to have adventures like her,” Cho rushed on. “For her. But I’m not brave. I’ve been afraid since we arrived. Afraid we’re trapped here. I was afraid riding the sleds up the mountain where one wrong move might send us to our deaths. I was even afraid of the quinniq. I missed my shot because I was too afraid to get closer. I’m a coward.”
The word hung in the air between them, a hidden brand exposed.
“You’re not a coward. Or if you are, then I am as well, because I’ve been terrified this whole time.”
Cho blinked. “Terrified? You took charge the moment we arrived. And looked calm doing it.”
“Calm? We just discussed my lack of calm unnerving the Nuukimak.”
Cho chuckled. “You know what I mean. You’ve been leading us all.”
Trini nodded. “Because I focused on one problem at a time and used that as a lifeline to get me through my fears. I’d wager Riko would be afraid in our shoes, too.”
Cho doubted her sister feared anything.
“Bravery isn’t only shown through physical feats,” Trini said. “What about the bravery to pull me aside and tell me I was screwing things up with the Nuukimak? Or the bravery to make them feel safe again?”
A confused jumble of emotions roiled inside Cho.
“Your sister would be proud of what you’ve accomplished. You were ready for this. And you’ll be better—”
Alarms on Trini’s wrist-comp echoed across the landscape.
Cho flinched. “What is it?”
Trini tapped on the screen. “The quinniq are following us again.”
Cho spun in her seat. She searched the path behind them. “Where?”
“One K back, but approaching slowly,” Trini replied as she studied her wrist-comp. “Probably watching for a weak target.”
A second alarm sounded. Trini swiped a finger across the screen, before biting her lower lip.
“What is it?” Cho asked, her gut knotted. The quinniq were bad enough without something else to contend with.
After a few moments, Trini said, “That was the new forecast from the satellite. We’ve got two hours till the storm hits. And projections have worsened. Eighty mile per hour winds hurling ash and dirt in our faces, blinding us. It will be difficult for the touvak to pull the sleds through it.”
“How far are we from the thorneway?” Cho asked, hoping they’d shaved off enough time.
“Still about four hours away.”
“But we’re making better time riding,” Cho protested. How could they have lost time?
“The storm is moving faster than projected.”
“We need to alert the Nuukimak.” Cho whistled and waved her arms.
Inksuuk signaled the others to stop.
Cho barreled out of the sled before it had come to a complete stop, jogging over to Ahnai’s sled. Inksuuk and Yoskalo joined them.
“How is Siqiq?” Cho asked.
“He’s well,” Ahnai answered warily. “No sign of infection. But you didn’t stop us to check on him.”
It was Trini who spoke as she arrived. “The storm will be here faster than expected. And it’s worse than I feared.”
“It gets worse,” Cho added, casting a glance behind her. “The quinniq are following us.”
Inksuuk grimaced. “We’re pushing the touvak as hard as we can. In this landscape, it’s dangerous to push harder.”
“We have no choice,” Trini said, a little heat coming into her voice again. She flushed and Cho saw the struggle to calm herself.
“We should find shelter until the storm passes,” Yoskalo suggested.
“There’s no time,” Trini replied.
“We’re more vulnerable to the quinniq while traveling,” Insuuk said.
Cho sensed the exasperation building in Trini again. The older girl glanced over at Cho, an appeal for help in her eyes.
“Pushing the touvak any harder won’t help,” Cho said, focusing her plea on Ahnai. “But the last storm lasted for days. This one will last for weeks. Now might be our one chance to reach the thorneway and save your families.”
And what about Elsapi and her family? Would they get caught out in the storm? But she could do nothing for the girl right now, so she forced those fears aside.
“Please,” Cho said to Ahnai. “Stay with us a little longer.”
Ahnai nodded before turning to Inksuuk. “We haven’t come this far to lose our children now.”
Inksuuk nodded once. “We can push the touvak a little harder.”
Cho exhaled. “We can be the rear sled. The scouts will monitor the quinniq. If they get too close, we’ll be the first line of defense.”
“Thank you,” Ahnai said. “Let’s not waste any more time.”