Young Justice: Solstice

Thirty

Kamala was quiet. Too quiet. Mum held her close, rocking back and forth as we huddled around the fire with Dad. The small flame didn't make near enough smoke to send a signal through the snowstorm.

But soon the storm would stop. We could make a bonfire. We could send up a signal. We could be rescued.

I walked a short distance away, as I had for the past week. My parents were too tired to even look in my direction. I knelt in the snow, barely able to see my parents through the snowflakes. I couldn't feel my fingers, so I tucked them under my arms, thawing them in what little body heat I still had. I whispered my prayer over and over, hoping that the gods- that any gods*- would be listening.

"Hear my prayer, please. We have been stranded for a week now, and we need help. Please send help for my mum and dad, please, please send help for my baby sister, she is young and should not know the cruelty of the world.

"Please, send help."

My words died on the gusts of wind. I didn't even see my own breath frost over.

My hands were starting to feel warmer, so I gave thanks for that small blessing as my mother's sob tore through the wind.

We would get help. We would. We would make it through this. We just had to last a bit longer.

I squinted into the storm as everything seemed to glow brighter. The white snow and the low atmosphere had that affect.

"Dad?" I shaded my eyes. It was getting suspiciously brighter now, and the warm feeling wove its way up may arms and to my chest, where it grew and covered my

Was this what it felt like to die?

"Mum? Dad?"

I fell over, but I never felt myself hit the ground.

-------

I hit the floor in a tangle of blankets and throw pillows, face smacking against the throw rug. At least I missed the nightstand.

I looked up at the clock, praying that it was an acceptable hour to wake up.

Two forty-five.

I groaned and looked back at my bed longingly. As I tossed my bedding back onto my bed to try and arrange it, I stopped at my pillow. It was wet, almost sopping. I reached up to my face, delicately brushing at my stinging eyes and tear-covered cheeks.

I sniffed back another wave of tears before I could think, and told myself to breathe as I suddenly remembered my dream in stark detail.

That dream. The airplane dream. I'd been having a lot of dreams like that one lately. Ever since I got my powers, as a matter of fact.

I did not want to go back to sleep and risk having another one of the airplane crash dreams, so I grabbed a pen and a notebook with the wild thought that writing all of this down would help stop the dreams from dreaming anymore, and stalked down the dim, empty halls of the Watchtower to the cafeteria--also dim and empty.

Teabags were still out, and I warmed up a mug of water easily enough with my powers, pondering to myself how strange it was that there was a day and a night cycle to the Watchtower when Earth needed saving twenty-four-seven and there was almost always a hero willing to save it.

The cafeteria was too big and too empty to get any good writing done, so I headed for the lounge, where I could cozy up on the couch with Wolf.

I stopped in the doorway, and sighed.