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Written for the second day of the 2017 "Holigay" prompt challenge.
The prompt was: "Two or more of your characters are spending time with each other when a blizzard sweeps through the area, snowing them in! Write about how they handle being trapped together with limited supplies."
Summary: Corinne and Wren are snowed into a cave on their way to visit Corinne's family.
Minor angst, fantasy.
“Well, we are officially snowed in,” Corinne said, stepping back into the fire-lit middle cave room they’d set up as their primary camp for the duration. Looked like that duration was going to be a little longer than they’d been planning on.
“Snowed in?” Wren’s voice took on a slightly panicked note. She brushed her long, dark hair back from her face, fixing Corinne with a look that practically begged her to say something else.
“Snowed in,” Corinne confirmed, shaking her head, and letting her fur-lined cloak hood fall back. She reached up to start untangling her hair, white as the snow outside. “Looks like we got a real blizzard overnight. It’s lucky we stopped here when we did, or we would have been caught out in the open.”
“I thought it was only going to snow for a few hours through the night. How much snow is there?” Wren half-stood, like she was going to go check.
Corinne waved Wren back down and removed her cloak once she was back near the warmth of the fire. “Feet. At least four, more where it’s drifted.”
“How long are we going to be trapped?” The high note of panic was even more obvious now.
Corinne did her best to keep her own voice as soothing as possible as she joined her partner on the furs around the fire. “Probably a couple of days. These storms come through like this most winters, but it doesn’t stay cold like this. Enough should melt that we’ll be able to travel again within a few days. It won’t be the best weather we’ve had on the journey, but it’ll be safe enough to move on.”
“Days?” Wren did not sound soothed.
Corinne pushed on. “We’re going to be fine. We’re incredibly lucky we found this cave: it’s the perfect place to wait it out.”
In fact, it was obvious it had been used as a resting point before; the three room system was almost ideal for that purpose. The entrance was cut off from the other rooms by a fairly narrow uphill passage. The center room had a flat, even floor, with a ring of stones that had obviously been used multiple times to contain a fire. The third room was higher than both of the others, and contained its own vent to the outside, funneling the campfire smoke upward and out, keeping it from filling the room and choking them.
Corinne even half-wondered if this was a place her brothers or cousins may have stopped at some point on a hunt. It was comforting, in a way, to imagine they’d been here before.
“We’ll be all right on food,” she continued. “We have plenty in the packs for a few extra days. If it comes down to it, I can go hunting. Even if it’s not safe for us to travel, I can handle the cold, and I’ll catch us something.”
“Don’t leave me!” Wren almost cried, dark eyes wide.
Corinne took a deep breath. “Of course I won’t leave you. Just if we have to, I will go hunt us something to eat, and come right back.”
Wren’s breath was unsteady, and she buried her face in her hands. Her words were muffled, but Corinne could still hear them. “We shouldn’t even be out here…”
Corinne bit her lip, the sharp point of a canine tooth breaking the skin. “I thought you wanted to come. You said you wanted to visit my family.” She tried to keep her voice calming, but couldn’t keep the hurt from seeping in.
“You know what I mean, Corr. No sane person wants to be out in this. We should be in a city, not sheltering in a cave where we might be trapped for days, where we could run out of food.”
“Not all of us grew up behind city walls!” she snapped. “Some of us had to get used to risking cold and hunger. This is the season when my family is close enough that I have a hope of visiting them. If you didn’t care about actually meeting them, you shouldn’t have come with me.” She was treading a thin line between anger and hurt, fighting to keep both in check.
And she knew it wasn’t entirely called for. She knew Wren was genuinely scared; it wasn’t her fault she’d lived a relatively pampered life and didn’t know how to cope with something like this. This probably did seem like a disaster to someone unused to more than a dusting of snow.
Sure enough, Wren’s next words were the start to an apology. “Gods, Corr, I didn’t mean it like that. I do want to meet them, I just… I don’t like being helpless.”
Wren trailed off, and Corinne took a deep breath, forcing her own calm. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m going to go make sure the vent in the upper room is clear of snow,” she said, taking one of their pitch-tipped torches and holding it to the fire. “Don’t want to smoke us out.”
She left Wren sitting by the fire.
There was smoke starting to build up near the ceiling of the third room, and Corinne climbed up a small rock formation and strained to hold the torch flame as near to the vent chimney as she could. She used one hand to pull the edge of her wrapped robe up over her nose, and she had to blink her stinging eyes, but she waited until water dripped down, sizzling in the torch flame and landing on her hand. It wasn’t enough water to threaten the flame, but it would take a while for the heat to rise high enough.
“Let me.”
She glanced back to see Wren climbing up beside her. Corinne let the neck of her robe drop back down, and she offered her hand to help Wren up, pulling the torch aside.
Wren’s fingers were glowing, and she held them upward toward the vent. Corinne tossed the torch to the ground where it guttered and almost went out, and put both hands around Wren’s waist, holding her steady as she reached up. The air above her upstretched fingers shimmered vaguely, visible even through the haze of the smoke, like summer sun on stone.
More water dripped from the vent, vanishing in a sizzle when it hit Wren’s hands, and then the smoke was finally making its way out, clearing quickly as the cold outside air pulled it upward.
Wren lost her balance then, and Corinne caught her, carefully getting both of them back to ground level. Wren’s fingers were no longer glowing—they were barely even warm against Corinne’s hand—and the torch had gone out, so the room was only lit by the faint glow of their fire in the main room.
Corinne supported Wren the rest of the way back to the fire, and gently helped her down to the furs. She sat down next to her and began chafing Wren’s hands gently between her own. Wren’s method had definitely been the more efficient in the short-term for clearing the vent, but even that small expenditure would leave her exhausted for a while.
“I wasn’t mad,” Corinne said. “You didn’t have to come exhaust yourself as penance.”
“Kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Wren answered. “Something that little being that draining?”
“Not pathetic.”
Wren was shivering now, despite being so near the fire. She leaned closer turning to bury her face in Corinne’s chest. “It is. I’m a terrible mage. Your family isn’t going to think I’m worth you.”
Corinne picked up her discarded cloak, and wrapped it around Wren, while also pulling her into a closer hug.
“My family is going to love you, don’t worry about that.” She pressed a firm kiss to Wren’s forehead, and when her partner looked up, she pressed a second kiss to her lips.
“Unless I freeze first,” Wren said with a forced laugh. “Because I just had to do something to show I wasn’t totally helpless.”
“I won’t let you freeze. There are benefits to being with me, you know.”
She pulled away from Wren and undid the clasps that fastened her wrapped robe around her, letting herself start to shift. Smooth skin was covered by fur, bones shifted into new alignments, and her senses sharpened, letting her wolf-shape come forward.
She couldn’t form words like this, and Wren was too exhausted to pick up on even a very directed thought, but Corinne lay her lupine body down on the furs, curled toward the fire, with a deliberate space to the inside.
Wren gave her a tired smile and crawled over, curling to face Corr. She buried her fingers in Corinne’s thick white fur, cuddling close.
Corinne didn’t even mind her cold fingers. She bent her neck enough to give Wren’s face a gentle lick, and they both settled in to nap. They’d wait out the worst of the snow, and then they’d find her pack.
[This got a minor SPAG and word choice edit in 2023 when it was posted.]
The prompt was: "Two or more of your characters are spending time with each other when a blizzard sweeps through the area, snowing them in! Write about how they handle being trapped together with limited supplies."
Summary: Corinne and Wren are snowed into a cave on their way to visit Corinne's family.
Minor angst, fantasy.
“Well, we are officially snowed in,” Corinne said, stepping back into the fire-lit middle cave room they’d set up as their primary camp for the duration. Looked like that duration was going to be a little longer than they’d been planning on.
“Snowed in?” Wren’s voice took on a slightly panicked note. She brushed her long, dark hair back from her face, fixing Corinne with a look that practically begged her to say something else.
“Snowed in,” Corinne confirmed, shaking her head, and letting her fur-lined cloak hood fall back. She reached up to start untangling her hair, white as the snow outside. “Looks like we got a real blizzard overnight. It’s lucky we stopped here when we did, or we would have been caught out in the open.”
“I thought it was only going to snow for a few hours through the night. How much snow is there?” Wren half-stood, like she was going to go check.
Corinne waved Wren back down and removed her cloak once she was back near the warmth of the fire. “Feet. At least four, more where it’s drifted.”
“How long are we going to be trapped?” The high note of panic was even more obvious now.
Corinne did her best to keep her own voice as soothing as possible as she joined her partner on the furs around the fire. “Probably a couple of days. These storms come through like this most winters, but it doesn’t stay cold like this. Enough should melt that we’ll be able to travel again within a few days. It won’t be the best weather we’ve had on the journey, but it’ll be safe enough to move on.”
“Days?” Wren did not sound soothed.
Corinne pushed on. “We’re going to be fine. We’re incredibly lucky we found this cave: it’s the perfect place to wait it out.”
In fact, it was obvious it had been used as a resting point before; the three room system was almost ideal for that purpose. The entrance was cut off from the other rooms by a fairly narrow uphill passage. The center room had a flat, even floor, with a ring of stones that had obviously been used multiple times to contain a fire. The third room was higher than both of the others, and contained its own vent to the outside, funneling the campfire smoke upward and out, keeping it from filling the room and choking them.
Corinne even half-wondered if this was a place her brothers or cousins may have stopped at some point on a hunt. It was comforting, in a way, to imagine they’d been here before.
“We’ll be all right on food,” she continued. “We have plenty in the packs for a few extra days. If it comes down to it, I can go hunting. Even if it’s not safe for us to travel, I can handle the cold, and I’ll catch us something.”
“Don’t leave me!” Wren almost cried, dark eyes wide.
Corinne took a deep breath. “Of course I won’t leave you. Just if we have to, I will go hunt us something to eat, and come right back.”
Wren’s breath was unsteady, and she buried her face in her hands. Her words were muffled, but Corinne could still hear them. “We shouldn’t even be out here…”
Corinne bit her lip, the sharp point of a canine tooth breaking the skin. “I thought you wanted to come. You said you wanted to visit my family.” She tried to keep her voice calming, but couldn’t keep the hurt from seeping in.
“You know what I mean, Corr. No sane person wants to be out in this. We should be in a city, not sheltering in a cave where we might be trapped for days, where we could run out of food.”
“Not all of us grew up behind city walls!” she snapped. “Some of us had to get used to risking cold and hunger. This is the season when my family is close enough that I have a hope of visiting them. If you didn’t care about actually meeting them, you shouldn’t have come with me.” She was treading a thin line between anger and hurt, fighting to keep both in check.
And she knew it wasn’t entirely called for. She knew Wren was genuinely scared; it wasn’t her fault she’d lived a relatively pampered life and didn’t know how to cope with something like this. This probably did seem like a disaster to someone unused to more than a dusting of snow.
Sure enough, Wren’s next words were the start to an apology. “Gods, Corr, I didn’t mean it like that. I do want to meet them, I just… I don’t like being helpless.”
Wren trailed off, and Corinne took a deep breath, forcing her own calm. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m going to go make sure the vent in the upper room is clear of snow,” she said, taking one of their pitch-tipped torches and holding it to the fire. “Don’t want to smoke us out.”
She left Wren sitting by the fire.
There was smoke starting to build up near the ceiling of the third room, and Corinne climbed up a small rock formation and strained to hold the torch flame as near to the vent chimney as she could. She used one hand to pull the edge of her wrapped robe up over her nose, and she had to blink her stinging eyes, but she waited until water dripped down, sizzling in the torch flame and landing on her hand. It wasn’t enough water to threaten the flame, but it would take a while for the heat to rise high enough.
“Let me.”
She glanced back to see Wren climbing up beside her. Corinne let the neck of her robe drop back down, and she offered her hand to help Wren up, pulling the torch aside.
Wren’s fingers were glowing, and she held them upward toward the vent. Corinne tossed the torch to the ground where it guttered and almost went out, and put both hands around Wren’s waist, holding her steady as she reached up. The air above her upstretched fingers shimmered vaguely, visible even through the haze of the smoke, like summer sun on stone.
More water dripped from the vent, vanishing in a sizzle when it hit Wren’s hands, and then the smoke was finally making its way out, clearing quickly as the cold outside air pulled it upward.
Wren lost her balance then, and Corinne caught her, carefully getting both of them back to ground level. Wren’s fingers were no longer glowing—they were barely even warm against Corinne’s hand—and the torch had gone out, so the room was only lit by the faint glow of their fire in the main room.
Corinne supported Wren the rest of the way back to the fire, and gently helped her down to the furs. She sat down next to her and began chafing Wren’s hands gently between her own. Wren’s method had definitely been the more efficient in the short-term for clearing the vent, but even that small expenditure would leave her exhausted for a while.
“I wasn’t mad,” Corinne said. “You didn’t have to come exhaust yourself as penance.”
“Kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Wren answered. “Something that little being that draining?”
“Not pathetic.”
Wren was shivering now, despite being so near the fire. She leaned closer turning to bury her face in Corinne’s chest. “It is. I’m a terrible mage. Your family isn’t going to think I’m worth you.”
Corinne picked up her discarded cloak, and wrapped it around Wren, while also pulling her into a closer hug.
“My family is going to love you, don’t worry about that.” She pressed a firm kiss to Wren’s forehead, and when her partner looked up, she pressed a second kiss to her lips.
“Unless I freeze first,” Wren said with a forced laugh. “Because I just had to do something to show I wasn’t totally helpless.”
“I won’t let you freeze. There are benefits to being with me, you know.”
She pulled away from Wren and undid the clasps that fastened her wrapped robe around her, letting herself start to shift. Smooth skin was covered by fur, bones shifted into new alignments, and her senses sharpened, letting her wolf-shape come forward.
She couldn’t form words like this, and Wren was too exhausted to pick up on even a very directed thought, but Corinne lay her lupine body down on the furs, curled toward the fire, with a deliberate space to the inside.
Wren gave her a tired smile and crawled over, curling to face Corr. She buried her fingers in Corinne’s thick white fur, cuddling close.
Corinne didn’t even mind her cold fingers. She bent her neck enough to give Wren’s face a gentle lick, and they both settled in to nap. They’d wait out the worst of the snow, and then they’d find her pack.
[This got a minor SPAG and word choice edit in 2023 when it was posted.]
