She might have walked for an hour. Her feet and her hands were hurting from the cold. She still couldn’t see anything. It felt like she was walking in place—but she was still going up the mountain.
Tiredly, she rubbed her hands. Her fingers stung, as though the cold was pricking at her like tiny needles. She was exhausted. At first, she’d kept pulling out her phone to check for a signal, but now she was too tired even for that.
Keep going. Keep going up...
How far could it be? Surely she’d reach it any minute now.
Her lips were numb. Her teeth chattered. Her feet were blocks of ice.
I can’t make it much longer, she thought, staring into the whirling snow. I don’t want to die here... but I’m so tired.
For seemingly endless minutes she continued to pull herself forward.
Help me. Someone... please!
Even the air she was breathing in seemed to be frozen, filling her lungs with ice until it hurt to inhale. She tried to keep going, taking step after step, fighting against the exhaustion that kept pulling at her—but at last it was too much. She’d given everything.
Her weary body sank into the snow, her knees giving out. She was trembling uncontrollably. She couldn’t feel her feet anymore.
It’s supposed to be quick and painless, freezing to death...
Tiredly, she blinked against the snow that was still falling. Suddenly, everything seemed quiet. Had the wind died down?
She was lying in the snow now—but it wasn’t cold at all. She felt strangely warm, and she smiled as the veil of snowflakes parted.
Something large was coming toward her. It was flying. It was becoming larger and larger as she watched, until she could make out wings.
A dragon.
A dragon made of ice, shimmering in a thousand colors as it reflected the light of the sinking sun. More brilliant than a diamond. More imposing than anything she had ever seen.
It was impossible, and impossibly beautiful.
I’m really dying, she thought vaguely, but she wasn’t afraid now. No one had ever told her that when you died, a dragon came for you.
Is he going to eat me? I’m not even a virgin. She was too tired to giggle.
A cloud of snow arose when the dragon landed. She could feel the force of the giant, strong wings beating the air. A second later, there was silence. And then someone took hold of her hand.
Oh, she thought in quiet surprise, fighting to keep her eyes open. A stranger was bending over her, concern on his handsome, rugged face.
The stranger had pale blond hair, almost the color of the snow. He looked a little like a prince out of a fairy tale—if princes in fairy tales wore heavily padded parkas and snow boots.
“Can you understand me?” the man asked, leaning over her.
Dara blinked tiredly.
Dimly, she felt herself lifted into the man’s arms. For the first time, she felt as light as a feather as her head came to rest against a heavily muscled chest.
The stranger was still looking at her. His eyes were a strange hue of gray. Dara had never seen anything like it before. They were almost silver, illuminated by some inner light, gleaming the same way the ice dragon had shone in the sun.
They were beautiful.
Feeling safe at last, Dara closed her eyes and slipped away into sleep.