The second torch suddenly sputtered and died noiselessly, the small halo of light and warmth swallowed by the darkness. Warren's feet trudged to a halt as he reached behind his back to remove another from his makeshift quiver, his hands shivering as he tended to the oil-soaked cloth. The flint stone materialized from a satchel on his belt and he forced his senses to focus on the task in front of him. He'd long since stopped counting the bells in his mind, unable to hear anything over the howling gales anyway. It was night and the world felt so far away.
He raked the flint again and again trying to get the torch to light. Damnable thing; The previous two had given up already and he found himself unreasonably angry. He knew they were merely converting fuel to light and warmth, and that those fuels were so delicately finite, but the only fact that seemed to tromp through his exhausted mind was that they had given up. They had run dry. When he needed them most, his lights had vanished into the night, dying uselessly in the snow. His hands gripped subconsciously and then the flint was gone, slipping from his hands and landing somewhere beneath him in the snow.
Thoughts collided like freight trains.
find it YOU DROPPED IT it's down there somewhere right under you get down and look for it can't see a thing can't feel a thing it's right there look for it
You'll never find it.
His breath hitched and Warren felt what little feeling left in his body give out. He landed on his knees as the torch slipped from under his arm and sank softly into the snow besides his expired brother, almost as if reaching out to touch and comfort it.
Can't feel anything in the gauntlets. Can't take the gauntlets off or I'll lose my hands to the cold. Can't sit here. Need to keep moving, need to get up. They need me.
He tried to will the fire in his belly back to the surface, to bring the fight back to the front and drive himself back to his feet to continue. One foot found purchase, then the second, and he turned about in the night trying to orient himself. Fire off in the distance. Was that Dragonhead? Had he managed to wander that far back? Was it Whitebrim? A pain in his stomach reminded him how badly he had been neglecting himself for more than a day. Victory was stabled, resting and warm. He was a good, dutiful bird. He deserved respite.
Focus.
Warren closed his eyes, urging himself to retrace his steps. Had he been through this way? Which direction was he even facing? The sky was clouded over with the threat of more snow. He realized he didn't have the answer, forcing his mind silent to stave off the taunts of despair.
Fire. Go towards the fires. Figure it out from there. This is just a delay, this is a minor set-back and we can fix it, we can still find them and we can still
His thoughts were cut short by another, this one reminding him the exposure alone would have killed them both ten times already.
He raked the flint again and again trying to get the torch to light. Damnable thing; The previous two had given up already and he found himself unreasonably angry. He knew they were merely converting fuel to light and warmth, and that those fuels were so delicately finite, but the only fact that seemed to tromp through his exhausted mind was that they had given up. They had run dry. When he needed them most, his lights had vanished into the night, dying uselessly in the snow. His hands gripped subconsciously and then the flint was gone, slipping from his hands and landing somewhere beneath him in the snow.
Thoughts collided like freight trains.
find it YOU DROPPED IT it's down there somewhere right under you get down and look for it can't see a thing can't feel a thing it's right there look for it
You'll never find it.
His breath hitched and Warren felt what little feeling left in his body give out. He landed on his knees as the torch slipped from under his arm and sank softly into the snow besides his expired brother, almost as if reaching out to touch and comfort it.
Can't feel anything in the gauntlets. Can't take the gauntlets off or I'll lose my hands to the cold. Can't sit here. Need to keep moving, need to get up. They need me.
He tried to will the fire in his belly back to the surface, to bring the fight back to the front and drive himself back to his feet to continue. One foot found purchase, then the second, and he turned about in the night trying to orient himself. Fire off in the distance. Was that Dragonhead? Had he managed to wander that far back? Was it Whitebrim? A pain in his stomach reminded him how badly he had been neglecting himself for more than a day. Victory was stabled, resting and warm. He was a good, dutiful bird. He deserved respite.
Focus.
Warren closed his eyes, urging himself to retrace his steps. Had he been through this way? Which direction was he even facing? The sky was clouded over with the threat of more snow. He realized he didn't have the answer, forcing his mind silent to stave off the taunts of despair.
Fire. Go towards the fires. Figure it out from there. This is just a delay, this is a minor set-back and we can fix it, we can still find them and we can still
His thoughts were cut short by another, this one reminding him the exposure alone would have killed them both ten times already.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
