Cigarette's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Cigarette flew on past the falls. The vial's silver blood still leaned north. Soon the air changed. A wall of frozen wind poured down toward her, colder than anything she had crossed before. Her wing-joints stiffened in seconds. The last cold had crept in slow. This one bit at once. She knew the truth without stopping to think it. If she pushed into that wind, her wings would freeze solid, and she would drop before she reached Jack Daniels. She saw him then, far ahead. A broad blue shape staggered across the ice. His torn wings dragged. He held something wrapped tight to his chest. The starseed. Even at this distance she saw the faint light dying under the cloth. Her wings slowed. She could not fly through the wind. But she did not have to fly. She dropped to the ice and folded her wings against her back, out of the cold's reach. Then she ran. The ice cut her feet. The wind shoved at her. She lowered her head and pushed. Jack Daniels swayed, drunk and slow, laughing at nothing. He never looked back. She closed the gap step by step while her wings stayed tucked and warm. "Jack Daniels!" she shouted. He turned. Up close he was huge, twice her size, all muscle. His eyes were red and wet. He grinned like they were old friends. "Little court moth," he slurred. "Come to freeze with me?" "Give me the seed." She held out her hand. "It's dying. You're killing the whole kingdom." "Kingdom." He spat the word. He clutched the bundle tighter. "The kingdom never gave me anything. Now it gives me light." He lifted the cloth an inch. The seed glowed weak and gray. "Warm. Keeps the cold off. Mine." Cigarette lunged for it. He was drunk but strong. He swung one arm and knocked her flat on the ice. Her breath went out. He laughed and stumbled back, still holding the bundle. She pushed up. She could not win by force. So she watched his feet. He staggered on the slick ice, off balance with every step. She rolled under his next swing and shoved his knee hard from the side. Jack Daniels went down. His arms flew out to catch himself. The wrapped seed slipped from his grip and skidded across the ice. Cigarette scrambled after it. She reached it first and snatched it up. The cloth was cold. The light inside was almost gone. She tore the cloth open. The seed touched the air and the open sky. Its glow flickered, then steadied, then grew. Warmth spread into her hands. Jack Daniels crawled toward her on the ice. "Give it back," he moaned. "I need it." Cigarette clutched the bare seed to her chest and stood. She had it. But its light was still faint, half-drowned from three nights in the dark. And Jack Daniels was rising to his feet behind her.