12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Kay
I t’s a relief when Gerta’s shrill screaming overpowers the choir echoing around the Snow Queen. It means we’re putting distance between us and our pursuer. It also means that Gerta hasn’t gone flying out of the makeshift shed I crafted for us while she still slept.
Most importantly, it gives me something to focus on besides the fact that we are plummeting backward. The only thing keeping us from freefall is a piece of bark that keeps bouncing on its downward path.
But panicking will only hinder our chances of survival, so I focus on the important things. I keep a tight grip on Gerta, my fingers entwining together to keep her in place. My legs are both braced on the lips of the bark to keep us seated.
Honestly, it’s not so bad as long as I keep focusing on the important thing . . .
Our bark must run into a stone, because it flips around. Suddenly, I can see the ledge we’re coming dangerously close to careening over. At the speed we’re going, we’re going to fly off the mountain with no hope of returning to our path.
Gerta begins screaming anew— I hadn’t even noticed she stopped with the howling of the wind in my cold ears.
Holding her tighter, I lean us both backward, so that half my body is hanging off the bark and helping to slow the bark. If we hit another stone, I can only hope that it injures me rather than kills me outright since I cannot exactly heal from that.
Speaking of injury . . .
To help with the goal of slowing down, I rip Gerta’s knife out of my shoulder. Then I sink it into the cliff we’re sliding across.
We keep skidding forward, but our speed is definitely decreasing.
Then the bark goes flying away. All of me falls into cold, wet snow— except my legs. Those dangle over nothing.
I lift my head slightly and see nothing but the sky beyond me.
Gerta is still on top of me, pinned in place by my crossed legs. She has stopped screaming and is gasping on air now. Then she rolls over and starts crawling upward.
Once I’m free, I do the same, my head spinning so fast I’m nervous I’ll topple off the mountain if I stand. It doesn’t help that I’m watching my own blood dot the snow as I crawl.
“I can’t believe we survived that,” Gerta gasps, clinging to her fur cap. “ Did we survive that?”
“If this is the Third Heaven, the priests have some explaining to do.” I collapse on my back and stare upward.
The sky is clear of clouds and the Snow Queen. Is she going to pursue us, or would that be below her— figuratively as well as literally? Does she even think there’s anything left to pursue?
“I can’t believe you did that.” Gerta chokes on something like a laugh. “You could have killed us!” She giggles. “You almost did kill us!” Gerta collapses onto the snow, laughing until she’s wheezing.
I stare up at her, hoping this fit will pass soon. When I was trained for how to deal with hysterics, I thought it was superfluous because I always keep the panic on the inside. I see now that knowing how to deal with others’ hysteria is a helpful tool to have .
“However, I didn’t kill us,” I say calmly, hoping my even tone soothes her nerves. “We are both of us still alive.”
Gerta’s gaze falls on me and her eyes widen. “Barely! Look at your shoulder!”
“You mean where you stabbed me?”
She gapes at me before giggling again.
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure her. “It will heal on—”
Gerta ignores me— which is not atypical— and unravels a scarf from her neck.
I watch as she wraps it around my wound. “That’s hardly sanitary.”
“I’m just trying to staunch the wound. We can worry about infections later.”
“Easy words for the one not at risk of losing an arm.”
Gerta rolls her eyes as she leans closer, wrapping her arms around me to tighten her makeshift bandage. The wound should remind me of the fact that she’s the one who afflicted it. Instead, the proximity reminds me of when Gerta and I were still closer.
I’m almost so distracted, I don’t notice a hand reaching into the pouch on my belt.
I grasp her wrist. “Do you really think I’m delirious enough not to notice your touch?” I pause. That didn’t sound quite right . . .
Gerta blinks rapidly at me, like she wasn’t expecting those words from me either.
And then the ground rumbles.
“What . . .” I turn and get my answer in the form of a great deal of white moving down the path we took, charging toward us and growing in size.
Turning from my belt, Gerta’s eyes widen. “Avalanche!”