Jeanie London - Her Last Protector

She still stood with her arms wrapped tightly across her chest, as if trying to fold in on herself to contain warmth. But Drew knew by one glimpse of her lovely face that she struggled. She would hide it. She would strap on her courage like Kevlar, but she was struggling hard right now. He could see it in the raw edges of her expression, the haunted eyes she lifted to his, the shuddering breath that echoed between them.

He had to get her to safety.

“Any problems?” he asked.

She shook her head, sending wisps of hair dragging along the fur collar, but she didn’t reply.

She couldn’t. Not without revealing her chattering teeth.

Crossing the distance between them with a few strides, Drew yanked off his own gloves and dug into his pocket.

“Any word from the general?” he asked.

She shook her head again. He hadn’t expected a transmission, but Mirie could use a distraction. He found the package of heat packs. They were small, the perfect size to fit inside a glove or a boot. He had hoped to conserve their few supplies, since these heat packs only had a short life span. Six minutes tops. She couldn’t wait.

Not optimum since she hadn’t been outside yet. She watched him curiously as he worked the packet to create a chemical reaction that activated the heat.

“Put this inside your glove.” He handed her the first, then went to work on the next. “It’ll help.”

She did as instructed and gave a small smile. “S-so what’s the plan?”

“How are you holding up?”

“Fine.” Her teeth let out an audible chatter and she rolled her eyes. “Freezing to death, b-but that’s because I’m standing around waiting to get shot.”

Drew eyed her narrowly and made the decision. “If you can handle a bit of a hike, then we should go for it. I’m not much for standing around waiting to get shot, either.”

That brought a smile to her lips, which hadn’t yet turned blue. A good sign.

“The village?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

She didn’t ask for details, didn’t want them. Mirie understood limitations better than most people. What did details matter right now when she couldn’t do anything to help?

He knew what her answer would be.

His own hands were warmer, so after giving her the second packet, he pressed his fingers to her chin. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she followed his urging and tilted her face to the side. Her skin was chilled and smooth beneath his touch, not waxen or stiff. No outward indication that her body temperature was dropping low enough to concern him. Yet.

Tucking the stray hairs into her hat, he withdrew the audio transmitter. “Thanks for hanging on to this for me.”

“Glad I didn’t need it.”

“Me, too.” He let his fingers trail from her face, forced his gaze to her gloved hands. “Any better?”

“Much. Do you want to use them, too?”

“You hang on to them. They can be reactivated with boiling water.” Which would require fire and a pot. There was definitely plenty of snow around to melt. Drew would save the rest of the heat packets for the other end of their hike to hold her over while he got a fire going. Hopefully they would be enough.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Rather dodge the bullets than wait for them.”

He liked that about her. Even as a young girl, she’d always been up for a challenge.

Drew surveyed the area again before he helped her out of the tunnel. Their path was clear and the snow fell steadily, no worse than before.

This was luck, and he would take all he could get. He shoveled debris against the hole to conceal their exit, trusting the snow to finish up the job. Using his belt, he created a leash of sorts to connect them, and then retrieved the branch he had used to cover his tracks.

He had to keep a close eye on his compass. This forbidding gorge wasn’t on the radar for people making their way through the mountains since it led to one of the highest peaks in the region. Not even sports enthusiasts appreciated this gorge, which was nearly impossible to descend without rappelling gear, and the narrow width made it hardly worth the effort. But there was shelter there, and a safe place to hide Mirie.

Drew had found it for exactly that reason. He had been trained by the man who had held the post of close-protection guard for two Ninselan kings. The man had been old, but he had taught Drew that the most important rule for protecting royals, was to know all the good hiding places.

Oskar would be rolling over in his grave right now because Drew hadn’t known about the altar. Or maybe Oskar was getting a good laugh, since he had probably been the one who had told Geta about the hideaway in the first place.

His former mentor had once delighted in sending Drew out to find the cleverest hiding places he could come up with. Then Oskar would shoot holes in every one.

He had liked the cave in the gorge, though.

He had shot holes in it, of course—too far away, too tough to access, not enough natural resources—but had also conceded that it would be a damned good hiding place if one could get to it.

Drew watched Mirie for outward signs of exhaustion. She trudged along with her head bowed against the weather, the weather cloak snapping around her as the winds picked up.

Their luck had held until now, but Drew finally abandoned the effort to cover their trail. Instead he motioned Mirie to grab the other side of the branch. Together they lifted it high enough to create a sort of windshield to block the falling snow and give him some visibility.

He couldn’t miss the outcroppings that would signal the entrance of the gorge. They were close. He could sense it even though he hadn’t been in these mountains in six years. And when they finally came upon it, Drew very nearly stumbled in. The snow concealed the sharp slope, and he took a step into nothingness. His feet shot out from underneath him and the branch went flying, jerked from Mirie’s grip. She gasped his name, and he would have dragged her over with him, if not for the tree limbs he managed to catch himself on.

“Grab the branches,” he shouted. “We have to climb down.”

Unfortunately, climbing down also meant dislodging snow. The snow seeped into the hood of his poncho like frigid fingers of ice. And they had to keep climbing until he could locate the cave ledge, which ran a good seven meters along the ridge. He had a strong sense of how far down it was, and when he caught the edge of it with his boots, he was relieved to discover that they had come down practically in the middle.

“Step down, but don’t let go of those branches,” he instructed Mirie.

She clung to the boughs until he cleared the cave access, digging and kicking through hard-packed snow. When he could finally scramble inside, he used a laser for a cursory check of the interior, relieved to find the cave was empty and dry.

“Come on.” He helped Mirie disentangle herself from the branches and crawl safely across the ledge.

The access was low, and he crawled in behind her, paying attention to her movements, looking for signs of exposure.

She seemed to be moving normally as she sank back on her haunches and asked, “How on earth did you find this place?”

“Dumb luck.” Drew directed the light so he could see her face. “Everything wet has to come off right now.”

She nodded, her skin translucent, her lips pale. She was freezing. He reached for her hand, tugged off first one glove then the other before digging through his pockets for the last of the heat packets.

“Wet clothes off first. Then activate these. They’ll help until I get a fire going.” He searched her gaze. “Understand?”

“Yes.”

Drew headed outside to search for spruce branches his boot knife could handle. Mirie had called him prepared, but he wasn’t. He carried basic survival items necessary in these mountains and a few extras—training from growing up on a lot of acreage with several generations of Canadys.