Chapter Three
Ruby
Dawn comes slowly up here. Like the sun is reluctant to rise over the trees. It paints the sky in soft pinks and golds. They bleed into the snow with a gentleness that feels almost tentative.
I wake before it fully breaks, after another restless night of sleep. The cabin still wrapped in that heavy quiet I've come to expect. The embers in the stove glow faint orange. Like they're holding onto the night with stubborn fingers.
My body feels restless under the quilts. The numbness from yesterday lingers like frost on my skin. It won't quite melt away. But there's a spark underneath now.
Something pulls me toward the lake again. Insistent and quiet. Like a whisper I can't quite make out.
I lay there for a moment. Staring at the wooden beams overhead. Their grains swirled like frozen waves.
The air in the cabin is cool. It carries the faint scent of pine from the walls and the ashy remnants of last night's fire. My ankle throbs dully. A reminder that's become as constant as my heartbeat. But it's not enough to keep me in bed.
The pull is stronger today. After yesterday’s breath-like creaks from the lake. That need to move. To feel the ice under me again.
Maybe it's the silence working on me. Chipping away at the walls I've built. Or maybe it's just the isolation. Making me crave something familiar. Even if it's laced with fear.
Tea from last night sits cold in its mug on the table. The leaves settled at the bottom. Like forgotten thoughts that have sunk too deep to retrieve. I pour it out into the sink. The dark liquid swirls down the drain with a soft gurgle.
I start fresh with the kettle. The hiss of water heating a small comfort. In the stillness that fills the space like an old friend.
While it steeps, I pull on my layers. Slowly. Deliberately. Thick wool socks hug my feet with a soft warmth. Leggings hug my legs like a second skin. Smooth and flexible against the chill.
The green coat with its wool lining smells faintly of pine from yesterday's skate. It feels heavy on my shoulders. Grounding me.
My skates wait by the door. Blades catch the first light creeping through the window. In a sharp glint that makes them look almost alive. As if they've been waiting for me since yesterday.
I sip the tea standing up, the bitterness grounding me further.
Warming my hands through another ceramic mug that's chipped at the rim from who knows how many hands before mine.
The vapor curls up, carrying the faint herbal note that reminds me of home.
Or what used to feel like home. Before everything fractured.
Outside, the lake calls. From beyond the frosted glass. Its surface a pale mirror under the rising sun. Smooth and inviting. In a way that tugs at that spark inside me.
The thinning spots I noticed yesterday worry at the edge of my mind. Like a loose thread. The milky patches where the ice looks softer. Less sure. As if the lake is whispering about changes it can't control.
Warmer winters, they say on the news. The kind that shift everything subtly. Melting boundaries that used to hold firm.
But the freeze feels solid enough from here. The surface unmarred in the dawn light. And the pull to skate is stronger than the caution whispering in my ear.
Just a little. I tell myself as I finish the tea. Setting the mug down with a soft clink. Enough to remember what joy feels like again after yesterday’s reminder.
Without the pressure of performance.
Without the eyes watching every move.
The air outside is crisp. Biting at my cheeks and nose with a sharpness that turns them rosy almost immediately. A flush of life against the cold.
I crunch down the path to the lake. Each step sinking slightly into the snow with a muffled sound that echoes in the quiet morning.
My breath clouds in front of me. Like small, fleeting ghosts. Each puff a small rhythm against the vast stillness.
The trees stand sentinel. Their branches heavy with snow that dusts down in fine powders with every breeze. The lake opens up before me, vast and empty. The sun now peeking over the evergreens to gild the edges in a warm glow that contrasts the chill.
At the lake's edge, I sit on the same log as yesterday. The bark rough and cold through my gloves. Textured like the scars on my hands from years of training.
Lacing up the skates is muscle memory. A ritual that's as soothing as it is familiar. Loops tight but not too tight. The leather creaks softly as it molds to my feet. Hugging them with a pressure that's almost comforting.
My ankle gives a faint protest. A dull ache that's become as familiar as breathing. Threading through me like a warning. But it holds steady. No sharper twinge to stop me.
I stand, testing my weight carefully. The blades sink just a hair into the frost-dusted surface with a satisfying bite.
Solid. Reliable. At least for now. Building on yesterday's tentative glides, I push off gently.
One glide, then another. The scrape of metal on ice like a whisper I've missed more than I realized, even since yesterday. Smooth and rhythmic.
The lake opens up around me fully. Vast and empty under the climbing sun. The wind whispers past my ears. Tugging at the loose strands of my copper hair that escape my bun. Whipping them free to catch the light like threads of fire.
For a moment, it's pure bliss. Unfiltered and raw. The wind on my face. The cold air filling my lungs like a cleanse. It reaches deep. Waking parts of me that have been asleep too long.
My thighs burn in that good way. Toned muscles remembering their purpose with each push. Carrying me across the expanse in long, graceful strokes. The numbness cracks a little more. Joy seeping through like light through a fissure in the ice. Warm and unexpected.
This is why I came here. To reclaim this feeling. Even in pieces. To feel the motion without the weight of expectation.
No crowds roaring. No judges with their clipboards. No coaches barking corrections. Just me and the ice. Dancing in silence. My arms swinging out for balance in arcs that feel natural. Balletic even in their simplicity.
But then the doubt creeps back in. Slow at first. Shadowing every stroke like a cloud over the sun.
What if it gives?
The thinning patches are scattered across the surface. Milky veils that catch the light differently. And I skirt them anyway. My path curving wide to avoid the uncertainty.
The lake's breath from yesterday echoes in my mind. That subtle creak. Like it's alive beneath me. Shifting in its sleep.
I slow. Circling closer to the shore unconsciously. My breaths come shorter. Sharper. The joy fractures under the weight of memory.
The Olympic fall replays in my mind unbidden. Vivid as if it's happening now. Arena lights blind me. The crowd's roar fades to gasps. My blade catches. Ice rushes up. Crack of bone echoes.
Pain blooms hot and fierce. Medics rush in. Hands pull me from the ice. Voices urgent over the chaos. Stealing my breath. My dreams. Everything in that shattering moment.
The numbness that followed. Not just in my leg but in my soul. Wrapping around me like a shroud.
I shake it off. Or try to. Pushing harder against the ice. Trying to outskate the memory that clings like frost.
The sun climbs higher still. Warming the air just a touch. Softening the edges of the world. And that's when I feel it.
A subtle give under my left blade. The ice yields. Like it's exhaling too deeply.
One of those milky patches. Closer than I thought. Hidden in the glare. Panic flares, hot in my chest. Tightening like a vice.
I veer right sharply. But it's too late. A sharp crack splits the air. It spiders out from my feet like veins of lightning. The sound echoes across the lake.
The surface buckles beneath me.
I'm falling. Plunging through into darkness that swallows me whole.
The cold hits like a thousand needles piercing every inch of skin. It shocks the breath from my lungs in a burst of bubbles.
Water closes over my head. Dark and murky. It pulls me down. With greedy currents that tug at my coat and limbs.
I kick wildly, arms flailing in the inky void. But my skates weigh me like anchors. The blades tangle in nothing but water. They drag me deeper.
Panic mirrors the old trauma perfectly. The fall all over again. Control slips away in an instant. My body betrays me once more.
Air escapes my mouth in a silent scream. The lake swallows them whole, without a trace. My ankle screams now. Twisted in the chaos of my thrashing.
But it's the cold that terrifies me most. It seeps into my bones like ink. Slows my movements.
My thoughts…
Everything.
I fight upward desperately, lungs burning with the need for air.
But the surface seems farther now. A dim glow above. Fractured by the hole I made.
It wavers like a mirage.
My coat drags heavy, waterlogged and clinging. My vision blurs at the edges. Spots dance in the dark. Heart pounding wildly. Then stuttering. Slowing as the chill claims me inch by inch.
This is it. The escape I wished for. Silence turning to oblivion. The lake taking what I offered without asking.
But then, in the deep, a faint teal glow approaches. Pulsing like a heartbeat from below. Soft and steady. Otherworldly.
It cuts through the dark with a gentle luminescence. Drawing closer. Wrapping around me like a question. The teal glow stirs something beyond fear, an attraction pulling me in.
It’s not enough…
My thoughts fade. Slipping away into the cold.
But the light holds me. Curious and warm in the freezing abyss. A promise or a lure I can't resist.
Everything goes black. The glow the last thing fading from my sight.