Fire and Snow

Tahn gasped for breath, the cold air freezing his chest and mouth. He didn’t pay attention to that though, or to the deep snow he was stumbling through, or to the ache in his legs and arms. He was focusing on the wavering stick he held in his hands and the small flame perched at the end of it. He had lit it from the embers of an old campfire and carried it almost a mile. He needed to get it to Merak, it mustn't go out.

He took another step and tripped. He was just able to stop himself from inadvertently plunging the branch into the snow by allowing himself to fall face first. He emerged spitting snow and shivering, but the stick was still lit.

He forced himself to his feet. This was a crazy plan, Tahn thought, he’d never make it. But somehow he had to or Merak would freeze all because he had lost the stupid flint. Tahn gritted his teeth and pushed onwards. The poor flame he held before him stuttered and weakened before his eyes.

And then there the camp was. Merak was still huddled next to a small pile of unlit branches. The older boy’s long clan braid was frozen to his back and his ankle and leg wrapped in a crude brace. Tahn floundered forward, by now he was shivering so violently he thought the shaking would surely put the flame out. Yet step after step it clung to wood until Tahn was able to thrust it into the pile of wood and coax a small fire into life. He had done it, Tahn thought as the two boys huddled next to the life giving flames under the silver moon, they were going to be okay.