Hope... started to become foreign, as if the furious bite of the bitter winds drove it away, leaving only purple bruised lips behind to make sure I remembered how numb I had come.
No sign of Luther. Andromeda was moaning softly in her sleeping bag. Our bodies had nearly stopped creating heat, and our stomachs were beginning to shut down, the absence of food creating a void within the three of us. Calix and I shared a sleeping bag.
But it was not enough. The last hope was the final flare we sent up, but the likelihood of us making it out of here alive was starting to grow as dim as the cloudy sky above us.
It would be merciful to send a hungry bobcat our way.
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