Wreckless Courage #4
He had to do this. He needed to do this.
This was madness! Why on earth was he doing this?
Aries was getting closer, calling him names and shouting obscenities. River was galloping behind with an armload of clothes. Nic was still beside the campfire, avidly urging him to jump.
This was it. If he didn’t do it now, Aries and River would make him stop.
He dragged his undershirt over his head.
Aries was a dozen feet away.
Collin sucked in a deep breath.
Aries was reaching out, about to tackle him.
The vision he’d had earlier—of falling into the lake’s belly, swallowed whole by black water shoved into his mind. And now here he was, daring it to happen.
Aries’s fingertips grazed his upper arm.
Now!
Collin held his breath—and jumped in, feet first.
The cold shocked his mind into stillness, his body into numbness. He would surely expire—like falling through a million shards of broken glass. His lungs contracted, pushing all the oxygen out of his body.
He sank and sank and sank.
It was as if some nameless force were pulling him steadily downward, wanting to keep him in the deepest part of the lake’s soul for all eternity.
Oddly, he wasn’t frightened. As he sank, the harshness of the cold eased.
The loud thudding of his heart pounded rhythmically against his ribs, pushing forcefully on his chest, telling him that he was still alive.
He was lost in this mysterious world—a world filled with odd sensations he had no words for.
He was submerged in a place where he could hear the remarkable sound that pure beauty made, where he could truly feel the essence of verve.
A bubble escaped his mouth. He followed its progress. The world beneath the ice was dark, but the ice didn’t blot out the bright sky. It possessed a shimmery quality, and a single spot shone particularly bright as sunlight poured through the fishing hole.
He kicked upward, his lungs craving oxygen.
“Collin, are you stupid?”
“Hurry and get his clothes!”
“Damn! You are my hero!”
“Get him out of the water!”
“Oh, dear god! I think he’s frozen!”
It was chaos above the ice. Hands dragged him out of the lake. Shouting at each other. Shouting at him.
Water froze into icicles over his skin and hair. His clothes were forced over his head, his arms pinned to his sides. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs frantically sucking in air. They dragged and carried him to the bank, tossing him like limp baggage beside the fire.
His limbs were frozen. His elbows wouldn’t bend. He couldn’t stop shivering.
River was shouting, but the words were incomprehensible, his brain too frozen to understand.
Another coat was wrapped around him. Beside the fire, his body and mind slowly thawed.
“Breathe slowly. Take deep breaths.” River repeated.
He couldn’t stop gasping. Maybe nothing in the world could ever quell the chill in his bones. He struggled to put his arms into the sleeves, but he quickly gave up. His joints ached as though on fire.
He looked around, gazing at the stunned faces of his friends. River was as white as the snow. Aries looked furious. Even Nic’s playful spark had faded.
“Thaa-that wa-was... re-refreshing.” Collin tried to form a smile, but he succeeded only in making a grimace. The muscles in his face were not cooperating. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to smile anyway. Aries didn’t seem remotely amused by his stunt.
“You actually did it, Collin,” Nic said, his shock replaced by exultation.
“Stop encouraging him,” River snapped angrily.
“You-you sh-should try it som-sometime!”
“Collin, shut up and breathe normally,” said River.
Collin’s eyes were trained on Aries.
Aries looked upset—very upset. He wanted Aries to scream, to yell, to punch him. The quiet anger was worse—it meant Aries had seen through him, understood his craving for something he couldn’t name.
All right. Perhaps he had been reckless and foolish. He could have easily lost sight of the hole in the ice and drowned. He could still die of hypothermia even now—but he felt so alive! He wouldn’t hesitate to do it again if he could make his arms and legs move properly.
The novelty of Collin’s daring dive into the ice eventually wore off, and they returned to the task of fishing—except he was forced to remain beside the fire. Two hours later, they had a large catch to divide up.
Though Collin continued to shiver, River assured him that it was a good sign. Apparently, the danger would be if he stopped shivering. Still, River described the symptoms of hypothermia and instructed Aries on what to do in the event Collin went into shock.
On the walk home, Aries still didn’t lecture.
He even distracted Hadria so Collin could duck into his room without being noticed.
Had Collin disappointed him or scared him?
The silence between them felt like judgement, or maybe it was protection.
Collin couldn’t tell. It said everything—and nothing at all.
The rush faded far too quickly. By the next day, every muscle in his body ached, and movement became an act of quiet agony.
Each breath stung his lungs; each step summoned a protest from his joints.
Yet the real burden wasn’t the pain—it was pretending he was fine.
Hadria was always watching, always sensing, always circling.
He spent more energy feigning normalcy than he did healing.
He couldn’t afford to let her see the truth of what he’d done.
But what had he done, really? He hadn’t just jumped into a lake.
He had leapt toward something—something wild and wordless, something he couldn’t explain even to himself.
Now he sat in its aftermath, bone-weary and burning inside, with no language for the craving that still lingered like frost in his blood.
Whatever it was, it hadn’t been satisfied.