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She had shuffled forward, sight blurred by her tears, and had laid her hand upon her dog's head. All the sounds of the city, the smells, everything had fallen away. Only she and Barsa remained. Standing, with effort, she lifted him from the spike of ice, cringing at the sound of the ice scraping against Barsa's insides, retching as she heard the final slurp as she removed him from the shard. She laid him upon the ground and knelt beside him, resting her head upon his neck.

Nothing mattered to her anymore. She didn't even feel hatred towards Hatyara. Only emptiness filled her now. Barsa, the last of her sled dogs, the best of them, was gone. She had nothing left. Not a single thing in her life that could ever give her meaning. Her home had become devoured by flame, her whale hook lost within an ancient, decayed city and now Barsa, ripped from her.

"Dear Patrons!" A voice calling through a fog could not even force Únik to raise her head. "Is she ...? Is she alive?"

Alive or dead, it did not matter. Her fingers curled into Barsa's fur and she felt nothing. No warmth. No heartbeat. Even the fur, itself, felt dry and lifeless. As lifeless as she felt. When hands touched her, she shrugged them away. Insistent, the hands tried to lift her from the ground and she swatted at them, not even angry that they tried to take her away from Barsa.

"Turug is dead. Look at this! So many people." Another voice. Familiar, like the first, but unimportant. "I've never seen anything like this. I can't heal them all."

This time, the hands didn't try to pull Únik away. They pressed upon her back and her arm and Únik felt a warm body close to hers. A head laid upon Únik's and she felt a wetness fall upon her head. Who else could cry so for a dog? Only Únik. Only she could cry for Barsa. The tears of the other were for her.

"Únik?" A whisper in her ear. A kiss upon her hair. Fingers smoothing that hair down, squeezing her arm. "You have to let him go."

She couldn't let him go. Never. He was her dog. A good dog. She had allowed him too much freedom, too much happy freedom that a working dog should not have had. Had she continued to treat him like a sled dog, none of this would have happened. None of it. Barsa would have followed his orders. If only she had maintained discipline.

"I hear sounds of battle." The second voice, from a distance. "Looks like Vraniik has finally listened to you."

"Únik. Get up." The head of the first voice raised from Únik's, still smoothing her hair. "Damn it, Únik! I love you, but I swear, by all the Patrons, if you don't get up I'm going to drag you to your feet."

Love.

Únik had known love. Once. The love of a fresh-faced wife, turned sour by drink and violence. The love of a mother for her child, torn from her far too soon. The love for her pet, not her working dog, her pet! Now gone, as everyone and everything else she had loved had gone. She had nothing. Nothing, except, perhaps, a new love.

Lifting her head, she saw Ylthara kneeling beside her. The Ice-Kin held out her hand and Únik allowed her fingers to leave Barsa's fur, reaching up to clasp the offered hand. Together, they stood and Únik fell into Ylthara's arms, the sobs she had thought dried, erupting from her shaking body once more. She buried her face into Ylthara's shoulder.

"It was meant for me. Hatyara. She ... she was going to kill me and she didn't care." She could not stop the words from flooding out, holding Ylthara so tight. "And he ... that stupid bloody dog. He ..."

"I know." Ylthara held Únik as tight as Únik held her, allowing her to grieve.

"Ylthara. It sounds like it's getting worse up there." Únik recognised the other voice, now. Bohyiris, trying his best not to sound to urgent, for Únik's sake. "I'm sorry, but we have to go if we want to even try to stop her."

Ice-Bound Promise [Wattys 2023 Shortlister]Where stories live. Discover now