My fingers are white like bones picked clean by fishes. I can’t feel them at all. Above my head, the ice holds fast. Every step, every breath is exhausting. My chest is tight, I can’t breathe deep enough. I’m tired of this place. It’s too cold, too dark. If only I could just lie down. The dark gets darker. My eyes begin to close.
Out of nowhere a pale shape comes towards me. It’s him, the boy; Kit Barrington.
Goodness, the look of him! All I can do is stare. His beauty works on me like magic. But his eyes are pleading, desperate. I should be doing something, I know I should, but my head is all dizzy and I can’t think straight.
I see his mouth form the words: ‘Help me!’
As he moves closer, panic flares up in my chest.
Why me? Can’t he see that I’m useless?
The tiredness is overwhelming. My arms and legs go heavy. I want to sleep, to give up on this and never open my eyes again.
He’s crying now. I shake my head. He’s got me all wrong. I’m no help to anyone. He grips my hands tight, the chill of his fingers biting into mine. He’s holding onto me for dear life. He needs me. I’m his only hope.
Even his tears are beautiful.