Toli reached for Ruby and held her close. Her scales were dull and cool to the touch. “Hang on, Ruby,” she whispered into her feathers. “You’re almost home.” She pulled the little dragon closer to the warmth of her body. “Friend,” Toli said softy. Had she imagined the flash of a golden eye opening a crack?
Toli startled as Wix yelled for her to stop the sled. Toli shot him a puzzled look and pulled back on the reins. Then she heard it too. A thumping sound—a deep boom echoing from somewhere below the ice had started again. She could feel it vibrating through the bottom of the sled and into her feet. “What is that?” Toli asked as she settled Ruby in some furs and stepped out.
The strange echoing thumps knocked again. Petal rose from her seat, clutching her shell, the Memory of the Sea. “There’s a high sound too,” she frowned. “Listen. It’s like singing.”
Wix nodded. “It reminds me of when the carvers calve off a block of ice.” He paused, his eyes widening. “Toli. Get back in the sled.”
Petal leaned out. “Look—those orb things are moving.”
Toli grinned, her relief over escaping the bear-cats making her giddy. “Really? Where?” She moved toward where Petal was pointing. A glimmering orb lingered just under the surface.
“I think you should come back now, Toli.” Wix reached toward Petal. “Hand Ruby to me.”
Toli followed the orb as it rolled along, shimmering and shifting beneath her feet as if it were searching for something. She tilted her head. “I hear it too. It’s like the ice is talking to us.”
The knocking grew stronger.
Petal draped Ruby over Wix’s shoulders and started to climb out of the sled. Wix held her back, his voice urgent. “Hurry, Toli. Please! Come back.”
“It’s fine, Wix. I’ll be there in a minute. I just want to figure out where it’s going.” She had been tired and scared for so long, it was freeing to be confronted with a mystery that wasn’t dangerous or deadly. She walked a little farther, past the sled, following the orb as it moved under the ice. “Where is it going?” she asked with a child’s small, delighted laugh.
The thumping had stopped, and the chorus of creaking had broken into a strange series of mismatched melodies. She smiled back at her sister.
Wix’s jaw was tight as he watched her. “Toli—”
“You’re right, Petal. It is like a song.”
The ice gave a single, grating creak and split wide, and the world vanished.
Cold water hit Toli like a blow. Her body seized. Her chest squeezed. From within the frigid black, she heard Petal scream.
Seconds passed like lifetimes as Toli struggled toward the surface. It was so dark, she didn’t know her eyes were open until she saw Petal’s hands reaching for her from the hole she had fallen through.
She grabbed them.
Petal, lying across the surface of the ice on her stomach, hauled her out onto the bright ice, scuttling them backward.
As they lay there panting, bright cracks split the ice beneath them.
Petal cried out and grabbed Toli tighter. Toli, her whole body shaking with cold, noticed the rope around Petal’s waist just as her sister began sliding backward with Toli in tow.
Wix was reeling them in to safety. Toli had just enough time to admire their quick thinking before a jagged crack tore across the ice under the sled, and the whole sled vanished in front of her eyes, pulling Wix, Ruby, and four of the foxes down into the black.
“No!” Toli cried.
The lead foxes scrambled to find purchase, screaming in terror.
The world went silent around her. Toli drew her knife and cut the rope that tied her and Petal to the sled; then she was on her feet, diving forward, cutting the line that tied the harnesses to the sled. Half the foxes got their footing and ran across the ice, disappearing into the fog.
Only seconds had passed.
Toli scoured the water where the sled had disappeared for signs of Wix and Ruby. The ice heaved underneath her.
Toli stumbled back as Petal screamed her name. And the sled rose, its dragon figurehead cracking through the ice in front of her. It bobbed upward, spilling water out over the surface of the ice, the water crackling and hissing as it froze.
Wix came up in it, gripping the side of the sled with one arm and a silent Ruby with the other. Toli took her first real breath. The sled floated in dark water surrounded by ice.
The foxes that had fallen through followed, still tied together, clawing at the edges of the ice. Toli threw herself forward, catching hold of the reins as the top half of her body submerged. She hauled the foxes out one at a time, taking huge swallows of air each time she surfaced again. Their claws scratched at her and at the ice in desperate gouges.
Her arms grew heavy and numb with cold. When she’d gotten the last fox up onto the ice, her arms refused to hold her weight. She scrabbled at the edges of the ice, trying to pull herself back up. She slipped forward into the water.
Petal, on still-solid ice behind Toli, wrapped her hands around her sister’s ankles with a firm grip and pulled with all her strength until Toli’s chest and then head rose slowly out of the water.
Toli struggled to her knees, coughing and shaking, trying to get her bearings—trying to understand what had just happened. All around her, half-drowned foxes shook and checked one another over. She stared at Petal, her heart beating in dull, painful throbs.
The ice groaned beneath them.
“W-we’ve got to g-get away from here,” Wix stuttered, his eyes wide. “Come on. T-take what we need.” He was still in the sled, and he reached under the edge of his tunic to pull a small clay firepot from around his neck. His face was drawn. “I—I had a bad feeling when the ice started groaning, so I tucked a few embers in here while you were looking at those orb things,” he chattered.
“Toss me the peat bricks,” Petal said, moving quickly to help.
Wix searched the sled. “Gone. But we have whatever’s in here,” he added, yanking out a large waterproof bag. He threw it to them.”
“We’ll need fire,” Toli slurred through numb lips.
Petal nodded. “What about extra food? And is there anything else we can burn?”
Wix shook his head. “One p-p-problem at a time,” he said as he tossed a second bag to Toli and scoured the sled for anything else they could use, shoving items into the last remaining bag. He pulled a small hatchet from the belly of the sled. “This should help.”
Toli knew they had to hurry. There was no telling if, or when, the ice would crack again. As if to prove her point, loud creaking echoed through the air around them. “Hurry,” she whispered.
Wix grabbed a coil of rope that had been shoved firmly under one of the benches and tied it tightly around the arched neck of the sled before launching himself onto the solid ice next to the girls.
He handed Ruby to Toli, and she curled the little dragon around the back of her neck, pulling her wet hood up to block the wind. Half the foxes had run off, and the other half were in no condition to pull the sled free of the ice. The leatherleaf runners were gone, and they needed to get away as quickly as possible.
“Wait one minute,” Wix said, yanking open the first bag. He pulled out the small clay ember bowl, tossing aside wads of singed leatherleaf wrapping. He emptied his small firepot into the bowl. The embers were black, but Wix pulled his knife free and tapped at each of them gently, knocking away the char, then leaned close and blew. A thin glow brightened his face.
Toli exhaled.
“We need to pull the sled free—t-to that line of stonetrees over there,” Wix said. He pointed as the ice knocked loudly on the bottoms of their feet.
“Let’s get out of here.” Petal spun around.
The light had grown, and in the distance, dark lines rose toward the sky. Stonetrees, climbing up the foothills of Dragon Mountain. “How far is it?” Petal asked, gripping the rope next to Wix.
They began to pull.
Toli squinted at the horizon. “H-half an hour’s walk,” she stuttered. “M-maybe more.” She gritted her teeth so they wouldn’t chatter. “We m-might make it,” she added, too cold to say more. She tried to help Wix and Petal pull the sled over the lip of the ice and toward the tree line, but her fingers were too cold to grasp the rope.
Wix and Petal’s progress pulling the sled was slow, even with the ominous groans from the ice spurring them on. Toli’s fingers were useless, and though Petal gave everything she had at Wix’s side, she didn’t have the advantage of long hours of strength training with Spar.
Wix bent toward the ice, tugging the sled over its rough surface with no runners to ease it along. Sometimes the heavy sled dragged behind them like a dead thing; sometimes it hit a bump and careened to the side, dragging them with it. It seemed to take half a lifetime to get it to the edge of the trees.
It was Wix’s strength and sheer determination that, at last, helped them pull the sled safely off the deep ice and onto frozen ground. As soon as Petal dropped the rope, she was in front of Toli.
“Come on.” Petal grabbed her, rubbing up and down her arms. “Let’s get you in dry clothes.” Petal helped her get undressed, the wet fur and leatherleaf peeling away from her skin like a crust. Behind their backs, Wix turned away and did the same.
“We n-need a fire,” he said. “But there’s nothing to burn.”
We’re going to die here, Toli thought. She could no longer feel her feet. She could feel the weight of Ruby across her shoulders, but there was no warmth to her. She reached up and pulled the dragon down into her shirt, scale to skin. She could just barely feel her heart beating.
Wix stumbled over. “There’s got to be something we can burn. I have the hatchet. Maybe I can climb up into the stonetrees and cut a few small branches.”
Petal gave him a sympathetic look. “You know that won’t work. It takes more than a hatchet to cut stonetree, and it would take hours to set one burning. We don’t have time.”
Wix had pushed the sled over on its side to block the wind, so at least they had some shelter, but they were still too cold. They needed a fire. Toli stared at the sled. Her great-great-grandmother’s sled. She admired the carving of scales along the sides and what was left of the arching dragon tail at the back—splintered from the bear-cat attack. She turned to Wix. “You have your hatchet?”
He cocked his head at her and nodded. “But Petal’s right, it’s not strong enough to cut through stonetree. Toli, you—”
She shook her head. “The sled,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to the ice. “Burn the sled.”
She felt rather than heard Petal’s dismay. “But that’s—”
“I know. We don’t … we don’t have a choice. If we don’t get warm, we die. If we die, Ruby dies, and if Ruby dies…” Her voice failed her. But Petal understood.
“If Ruby dies, the dragons won’t believe us, will they? They’d kill Mother and the rest of the Queendom too.”
Wix lifted his hatchet, and to his credit, there was only the slightest pause before he brought it down on the splintered sled’s dragon tail. After a minute, it cracked away from the rest.
Toli pulled out the dry furs and blankets, clearing the ground as best she could with her feet. By the time she’d made them a place to settle, Wix had a sizable pile of boards and kindling. Toli slid Ruby down into her arms. The dragon’s scales were the color of ash. Toli wrapped her in furs and held her close, cradling her against her heart.
Petal set out the stonetree base and platform as Wix hurried to get the bowl of embers to light the fire.
“NO!” he cried, startling Petal.
Toli tried to stand up to see what was wrong, but she couldn’t get up. Her feet were too cold, and he was nothing but a dark shadow standing among the shambles of the sled.
“What’s wr-wrong?” Petal called, her teeth chattering.
“The embers are out. They were strong! I thought I’d saved them … but they must have gotten wet after all.” His shoulders shook. “We don’t have a way to start a fire.” Wix dropped his face into his palms and wept. “I’m so sorry.”
Toli dragged herself to her feet, and she and Petal moved to either side of him. They huddled together, taking comfort in one another. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had. There was no hiding the truth, and so they didn’t try. They were alone, with no hope of rescue or revival. Krala had been right. They weren’t going to survive.