Page 109 of Stealing Embers

Without hesitation, the sparking brightness flies right into the forest. With a heavy sigh and my head tipped skyward, I follow the creature into the woods.

Eventually, we come upon a set of fresh footprints that I hope are Steel’s. When that happens, my guide disappears into the foliage and doesn’t come back.

Steel has a significant head start on me, but I don’t know what else to do but follow the breadcrumbs. After the first hour of walking, I lose feeling in my fingers and toes and hope they’re all still attached. I’m beginning to wonder if there will be permanent damage if I keep this freezing and thawing out routine up.

I stop once to drink the remainder of the water I put in my pack and eat one of the granola bars. If I don’t find shelter soon, I’m going to be in trouble. Angel-born aren’t impervious to injury or the elements, it just takes us longer to succumb to them.

My body is already showing signs of wear and tear.

Trudging through the forest, the snow isn’t quite as deep as on the mountain slopes. A lot of the crystal flakes are caught on the tree’s piney branches, weighing them down so they bow under the heavy loads. Every few minutes a clump of wet slush falls from a tree, hitting the covered ground with aplop. Besides that soft sound and my labored breathing, the woods are silent.

As the day grows old, I feel every degree drop in temperature. Jeans are a horrible material to wear in the cold, and my legs join my hands and feet in numbness.

I’ve always had such a good sense of self-preservation, but the moment I set out on this quest to find the young Durand twins, it’s as if I chucked all sense out the window. If only I could return to that moment when I made the hasty decision to trek after the missing kids. I’d . . .

I’d what?

I’d probably make the same decisions, even knowing where it landed me. Maybe I just would have walked in a different direction? But then I wouldn’t have stumbled across a half-frozen Steel.

It’s a conundrum that occupies my bored and sluggish mind as I plow forward.

Hours tick by slowly. I convince myself I’ve missed the cabin—there’s no way it was this deep into the trees. I fell, tripped, and slipped down the mountain quickly, but this trek through the forest is never-ending.

I’m so tired. Maybe I’ll take a short break?

I sit on the ground, my teeth chattering and every inch of my body vibrating to generate heat. I resist the urge to lean up against a tree. The wells around the bases of the trunks are deep; it will be like being sucked into quicksand if I try to rest in one. The ground will swallow me whole.

Snow-covered branches and a purple-and-blue bruised sky come into view.

Curious . . . when did I lay down?

The ground is heating up, I’m sure of it. My teeth stop banging together and a delicious warmth melts my frozen bones.

My lids droop and take an eternity to flop back open.

I’m sure if I close them for a bit, it won’t be an issue. Nothing bad ever happens when someone falls asleep in the snow in below-freezing temperatures, right?

The lure of rest wraps me in its embrace and pulls me under.

I sigh. Finally warm. Finally safe.

As I sink into darkness, my thoughts are smudged and fuzzy.

I try to care, but I just don’t.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Whack.

“Get up.”

“Ash, are you kidding me right now?”

I snuggle back into the bed, dragging the cotton sheets over my head, keeping my eyes sealed shut. It’s a crime to leave the softness of this amazing bed.

Whack. whack.

The pillow doesn’t hurt, but it’s supremely annoying.