A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller
23
Brielle’s heart thundered as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Snow clung to the fur on its head, but a narrow patch of human skin and eyes peeked through.
Familiar eyes.
The person reached up and tugged part of the fur down, revealing splotched red cheeks.
Marcellus? Had she really found him?
Her mind finally caught up with what her eyes were taking in. She couldn’t form words with her face so numb, but she let out another cry and gathered strength to crawl toward him. It took long moments to untangle her arm from her bow. Every movement she attempted was clumsy, as if she moved in slow motion.
But finally she freed herself and crawled to Marcellus. He was still sitting there, watching her. He’d not spoken at all, but she finally managed a stiff, “Marcellus?” He might not have heard her through the fur covering her mouth, but at least her lips and tongue were working again.
She couldn’t tell how long he’d been lying there, but he’d created a patch of bare ground the length of his body. Snow rose up on either side of the spot where he’d lain. Likely, he would’ve been covered completely in a few more hours of snow blowing sideways into the nook.
She turned to face him and worked to form words. “How are you?”
Maybe those weren’t the best first words to say, but she wanted to hear him speak.
He stared at her, his eyes barely focused. Had he even heard what she said? She was about to reach out and grab his arm to shake him when a word slipped through the fur covering his mouth.
“Cold.” His voice was raspy, but the familiar timbre sent a thread of warmth to her heart.
She reached out and pulled him into a hug. “Marcellus.” Tears burned her eyes, but she couldn’t let them fall. Moisture like that would only make her colder. Ice had already crusted her eyelashes and probably wasn’t helping her ability to talk.
She pulled back and looked him over once more. His eyes held a little more life than they had moments before. Now she had to make sure they stayed that way.
A glance outside their little miniature cave showed the snow still swirling. They would need to stay here a while. Maybe together, they could keep warm.
She turned back to Marcellus and crawled in beside him. They both wore coats of thick fur. Hers was grizzly, and his looked like it might be the same. Would they be warmer sitting side by side or lying front to back in the place he’d been stretched out before?
Probably the latter. As much as her body craved the chance to rest, she didn’t fancy laying out as if she were giving up.
Still, that might be the best they could manage. They had no wood to build a fire and keep it burning, and the only other option was to go out in the wind and snow.
She glanced at Marcellus’s legs. Was he able to walk? Would moving in the blizzard be better than lying here, sharing body heat?
In truth, she wasn’t sure. Her mind didn’t seem to be reasoning well.
Her body told her she wouldn’t be able to keep on much longer if she forced herself back into the wind and cold. Staying here together would have to do.
Protect us, Lord. Keep us alive.
Using a combination of motions and the few words she could manage, she had Marcellus lie down on his side. She gave him the two small chunks of meat she had left, then removed her bow and quiver and positioned them with the satchel next to her.
At last, she crawled in to lie in front of Marcellus. He draped his arm over hers, and she could feel the tremble as his body tried desperately to stay warm. Her own limbs wouldn’t stop shivering, either.
As she settled in beside him, she finally managed to breathe easier. Was this a good sign or bad? She didn’t know anymore. She couldn’t think through the fog clouding her mind. Her eyes drooped shut, and she let herself rest for a minute. Just one minute, then she’d keep herself awake—counting snowflakes if she had to.
Evan didn’t sleep that night. There were a few times his body tempted him to lie down and rest, just for a few minutes. But his soul wouldn’t allow it.
He pleaded with God for Brielle’s life. Not just for her life, but for every part of her to return whole. Not even a nip of frostbite.
He raised the same prayer for Marcellus and for Brielle’s father and uncle. When he asked Philip for full names so he could be precise in his petitions, the man seemed wary about giving those details.
“I only want to tell the Almighty clearly who I’m asking Him to save.”
The man nodded understanding. “Her father is Henri Durand and her uncle is Carter Maurier.”
Evan raised his brows. “Her mother’s brother, then?”
Philip nodded.
Evan turned his focus back to the Lord, praying for God to place angels around each of the four to keep them safe no matter where they went, just as it said in the Psalms. Other Scriptures slipped into his mind through the hours, and he prayed each as they came to him. He’d never felt so close to the Lord as he did now, but the angst in his spirit wouldn’t leave.
Please, Lord. That simple cry seemed to say as much as every other word his thoughts could form. Maybe his spirit really did make intercession like Romans said.
Intercede for Brielle. And Marcellus, and Monsieurs Durand and Maurier, too. Bring them back to us whole and healthy and stronger than ever before. Use this time to make yourself real to them. Make your path for them clear, both during the storm, and the plans you’ve laid out for their future.
He stopped just short of begging God for Brielle’s plan to include him. He hadn’t yet come to grips with what he should do about the pitchblende.
He knew he had to tell Brielle everything, but beyond that he had no notion. Even when he asked God to show him, the way forward looked fuzzy in his mind. Maybe the conversation with Brielle would give him a vision for how to proceed.
Philip had been sleeping for hours when a step sounded in the hallway. That was Audrey’s tread, but it seemed too early for her to bring the morning meal.
Evan scrambled to his feet, and his hands trembled as he waited for her to open the door. She must have news.
When she pushed the partition open, she was carrying a tray. His stomach dropped. That must mean it really was morning. Maybe she had nothing to tell.
Philip awoke with something that sounded like a hiccup and pushed up to his feet as Audrey entered.
She caught Evan’s gaze, and the mixture of worry and relief in her eyes worked like a fist to grip his chest and twist hard. “Chief Durand and his brother have returned.”
The room seemed to wobble around Evan, and he took a step forward to steady himself. “Brielle?” They must not have found her. He refused to believe they’d only found her body.
Audrey shook her head. “They didn’t find her or Marcellus.”
Relief eased through him. At least they hadn’t found her dead.
Place your angels around her on every side, Lord. He envisioned shining men with swords, like what the Bible said was placed in front of the Garden of Eden. A powerful foursome like that pressed into a square around Brielle should do well to keep her warm and ward off any animals that might threaten.
“Has the storm stopped?” He’d prayed for that, too, but not as much as he’d prayed for safety and protection.
Audrey hesitated. “The wind has died down. There’s still snow falling, but visibility is much better.” She moved forward and set the tray on the floor.
Evan gave himself an inward nudge. He should have taken it from her instead of standing like a mindless oaf.
But his thoughts quickly shifted back to Brielle’s situation. “Are they going back out to look for her?” As much as he trusted God to bring her back safely, part of him still strained to secure that protection himself.
Audrey nodded. “Two of the other men have already left.”
A new thought slipped in, and he straightened. “How are her father and uncle? Do they suffer much from the cold?” He’d been praying for all of them. This might be a chance to learn how God would provide answer.
She shook her head. “They were cold and hungry and tired. I only saw them briefly. I guess it remains to be seen whether they lose fingers or toes from spending so much time in the weather.”
He inhaled a cleansing breath. That was a relief, although not conclusive. “Tell me the names of the men who’ve gone back out. I need to pray for them.”
A tiny thread of desperation pulled Brielle from the haze. Everything in her wanted to stay in the cradle of warmth, except that faint worry that wouldn’t leave her be.
She forced her eyes open, despite the grainy tug trying to keep them shut. Darkness shrouded her. Not the dusky version that lasted so long during winter days, but the thick black that signaled something covering her eyes. She reached out and felt the underside of the fur over her head.
Fingering along the hide, she finally pushed it off to reveal a sliver of brightness. She squinted and struggled for memory.
Like faint rays of dawn, the details slipped back to her.
The storm. Marcellus. Tucking the two of them into the nook under the stone.
The pressure at her back finally penetrated her thoughts, and she twisted her neck even as warm breath fanned her cheek. Marcellus must have covered them completely with the fur. From the regular sound of his breathing, he was still sleeping.
She turned forward again and stared out at the white still falling. The wind had stopped. Mostly. And now the snow fell in large flakes. But at least she could see farther now.
Her cheeks were growing cold, but the rest of her was warm, still covered in the fur and snuggled against Marcellus.
They’d survived.
That fact still didn’t seem possible. Against all odds, she’d found Marcellus and they both survived the night and the worst of the storm.
Now she had to figure out where they were and get them back home.
Her gaze dropped to the bit of leather showing under a covering of snow. The food pack. Was there any left?
There might be a little more of something, maybe pastry, but she couldn’t remember for sure. She should probably give that to Marcellus, as he’d probably had nothing to eat the day before until she found him.
Jeanette must be so worried. A new pressure sank over Brielle. Her own family would be worried, too. Papa, Charlotte, Andre . . . and Evan. Her heart squeezed. Had anyone told him? What was he doing right now? Worrying over her?
Part of her wished he would come out and find her, but he couldn’t do that while under guard. And she didn’t want him to risk his own life.
She had to tell her father and the others that he could be trusted. Keeping him guarded at all times until the council vote wasn’t necessary. In fact, it was silly. They had much more important things to spend their resources on, like making sure Laurent had enough food through the winter. She would speak with her father as soon as she got Marcellus back.
And now she needed to take action to accomplish that last bit.
As slowly as she could manage, she eased away from Marcellus and out from under the fur, laying it back in place to keep him cocooned in warmth. It looked like he’d used his coat to cover them both. A wise move, and she was surprised she’d not awakened when he moved around to accomplish the task. She must have been half frozen and exhausted.
The frigid air wrapped around her, seeping under her coat at the neck and sleeves, and she pulled the fur tighter. After crawling a little to get out from under the stone ledge above, she pushed up to her feet.
Every part of her ached, and her legs were barely strong enough to hold her. Her feet burned like she was stepping through fire, so she stomped several times to bring them back to life. The pain never eased.
Frostbite would be likely after spending a day and night in the storm. She’d seen dead limbs after people stayed in the cold too long, and they weren’t pretty. What would Evan think if her toes or feet turned that otherworldly gray? Or even fell off?
She pushed the thought away. She was grateful to be alive, and that was all she could worry about just now.
Turning her focus to the landscape around, she took in the mountain to her right, the one that had sheltered them. Covered in white, everything looked different. Unfamiliar.
Worry churned in her middle, but she did her best to swallow it down. She would have to start going in the direction she thought Laurent should be and pray she found something she recognized.
She glanced at Marcellus. Should she wake him to tell him where she was going? If she did, he would probably want to go with her. She might have to wander around a while, which would be a waste of his energy. Lord willing, she wouldn’t be gone long, so better to let him sleep. She did reach in for her bow and quiver of arrows and lifted the food satchel from under the snow where he would see it.
Then, she started northward. At least . . . she hoped so.