T HE FREEZING COLDNESS CRUSHES HER, TIGHTENING around her lungs, squeezing the last few bubbles out, and she watches them rise like silver balls of life up through the blackness toward the vanishing light.
Billi rolled as the river surged around them, trying to twist free of the wolf’s jaws. All finesse evaporated as the pair fought with desperate savagery. She clamped her teeth shut, fearfully hanging on to what little air she still held, and sank her fingers into the thick, slimy muzzle, forcing the jaws away from her face. Despite the enclosing, roaring darkness, the atavistic eyes of the wild creature bore into her. It shook her savagely, but Billi dug her knife in deeper. Claws ripped along her ribs, but she barely felt them now; her body was numb and her bones had locked into icicles.
The wolf’s heavy pelt weighed it down, and they began to sink. Bubbles shook out of the creature’s trembling body, and it jerked spasmodically, thrashing its limbs as panic took control. Its tongue lolled and its chest heaved. The fire in its eyes dimmed. As Billi kicked up, she saw the wolf rolling away, loose and limp in the current. Her lungs screamed, and blood pounded behind her eyes.
Vasilisa.
The stark, brilliant image of the young girl rose through her dull, slow mind. Billi kicked again, rising slowly. She had to find Vasilisa. If Billi died now, they all died. Still the river summoned her downward to join it. Billi kicked again. Her limbs rose and sank limply, but the light above brightened. The river’s surface was only a few feet away. She could see the moon, bright and heavy and huge above her.
Billi pummeled the ice with her bare fists until her last breath ran out as a futile cry in the silent blackness of the waters.
Then the ice exploded. Jagged shards stung her face while hands dug into her arms and hoisted her out of the water. The cold air shook her back to life. Pain ran through every vein, filling Billi with beautiful agony. She curled up on the ice, shivering uncontrollably. She was in pain, and pain was for the living.
Ivan must have saved her. She turned over onto her back, her vision clouded with dizziness. A figure moved against the near-full moon and bent over her. Hot, feverish breath swamped her face, but Billi gazed up at her savior, fighting the black sleep. She was so, so tired now-too tired even to shiver.
Apair of bright green eyes gazed down at her. Fingers hooked with talons caressed her face, smoothing away her wet hair. A gray-pelted wolf, standing on two legs, spoke. Its voice rumbled as its lips crudely mimicked human speech.
“Run,” said Old Gray.