Ice Country(24)

“The light,” I say, making no sense at all.

“There was a light?” Wes asks, understanding me like only a brother can.

I nod. “Didn’t see them. Heard Jolie. Someone hit me.” They probably figured that much out while I was sleeping. Some help I am. Although I feel like there’s something invisible holding me to the bed, I push up with all my might, try to get to my feet, ripping at something soft that’s tight against my head, fighting the double sets of hands that push me back down, swing at them, hit one of them, but my punch is so weak I don’t think either of us feels it.

Everything rushes past and I start to fade.

“Jolieeeeeee…” I say.





~~~





Jolie’s gone and Mother’s back on the ice. Mountain Heart only knows where she got the money. I’ve been in bed for two solid days. Not by choice. If it was up to me I’d be out there looking for Joles, but the doctor said my head’s pretty bad, and walking’s out of the question for at least a week.

I questioned it though, even when they strapped me to the bed with ropes. I pulled them away, squirmed my way out, ran for the door, feeling like I was floating the whole time. Perfectly fine.

But Wes and Buff cut me off before I got too far, fought me back into bed, tied the ropes even tighter. I cursed them out, said some things I should probably regret, but don’t. After all, they’re stopping me from finding her.

A Brown District search party’s already out there looking. The District lawkeeper’s been out to Clint and Looza’s house, inspected the footprints and the bloody mess I left, and supposedly he’s confident they’ll find her.

I’m not holding my breath.

Clint and Looza are shaken up, but fine. They came by to talk to me. Like me, they saw nothing, were surprised by men in masks at the door who forced their way in and tied them up. After smothering the fire, the men started to wrestle Joles out the door. That’s when I showed up.

I’ve got work tomorrow, but Buff says he talked to Abe and it’s okay, given the circumstances. I’ll still get paid just the same, as if I worked. Why would he be so generous? Not that I give a shiver about any of that right now. Silver and sickles and debts and boulders-’n-avalanches seem like meaningless things now that Jolie’s gone. I guess they always were pretty meaningless in the scheme of things.

Wes is out looking for Jolie. He got time off from work too, but he won’t get paid anything while he’s gone. I guess the mines aren’t as generous as the king.

Buff’s here, mostly to watch me, although I can barely move to scratch an itch, much less work my way outta the complex web of ropes they’ve strung up to keep me still. My head’s pounding something fierce, but I can’t sleep for one second longer, so I hold my eyes open.

“We’ll find her,” Buff says, sitting nearby. Mother’s beyond him, waving her hands at the fireplace, like she’s coaxing dead spirits out of it. Wes hasn’t got a clue where she got the ice from, but it’s almost a relief that she’s back on it so we don’t have to deal with her needing time while we’re trying to find my sister.

“I’ll find her,” I say.

“Not until your head’s on the mend,” Buff says.

“It’s fine now,” I retort.

“You’re so weak I could kick your arse with one arm and a leg tied behind my back,” he says.

“One, that’s physically impossible, and two, I’d eat yellow snow before I’d ever let you beat me in a fight,” I say, almost managing a smile.

Buff curls half a lip. Smiles are luxuries right now. “Just give it a couple more days and then we’ll go looking for her together.”

“Like I have a choice,” I say, straining against the ropes to show him just how helpless I am.

“You want something to eat?” Buff says.

“Like I want you spooning soup in my mouth. It’s bad enough when Wes does it.” Just the same, I know it’s a rare thing to have a friend like Buff.

Buff shrugs. “I could find you a nurse. A real icy one, even icier than the White District witch.”

“The witch wasn’t icy. And I’ll pass. I’m on a break from girls. Maybe permanently.”

We’re both quiet for a minute, tired of the type of banter we used to both love. Questions hang in the air like drying shirts on a clothesline.

“Why’d they take her?” I ask the air.

“Only the Heart of the Mountain knows,” Buff says, thinking the question was for him.

Why her? Why anyone? Who took her? Where’d they take her? Are they going to hurt her? Is she—is she—is she…………?