Page 20 of Battle of Hearts

They pressed on, the storm showing no signs of letting up. Mirren’s bones ached worse and worse by the second. Frost coated every inch of their gear, clinging to their hats and thick scarfs and slipping through the cracks of their jackets.

The secondary outpost was still way ahead, but it may as well have been on another planet for how unreachable it felt. Mirren’s limbs were shaking violently now, her vision blurring as the cold worked its way deeper into her body. She stumbled again, her feet catching on something buried beneath the snow, and for a second, she thought she might not get back up.

But then Sawyer was there, grabbing her arm, pulling her to her feet with more strength than she should have had left. “Stay with me,” she said, her voice low but commanding. “We’re almost there.”

Mirren nodded, though she had no idea if it was true. The storm seemed eternal, the cold endless. But she trusted Sawyer. She had to.

As they continued forward, the landscape shifted slightly—a dark shape looming ahead, barely visible through the swirling snow.

Mirren’s heart skipped a beat.

The outpost.

It had to be.

9

SAWYER

The cold seeped deep into Sawyer’s bones, curling its icy fingers around every last reserve of strength she had left. Mirren had fallen and now struggled to follow close behind her. Then Sawyer had fallen not too long afterward, pushing herself back up to her feet, determined to move on. The storm had been relentless for what felt like days, and now here they were in the thick of it, moving on from the only shelter they had in hopes of finding another shelter that may not even be there. Sawyer knew the region like the back of her hand, but in this blinding snowstorm, it was impossible to tell which direction they were headed, let alone if they were headed toward the right one.

She shot a sideways glance to Mirren, concern etching lines in her forehead as she saw the younger women struggle. Her movements were slow and lethargic, just like Sawyer’s, her face red with a mixture of cold and pain. Just like Mirren, Sawyer’s limbs were heavy, weighed down by the cold and exhaustion, making it impossible to trek through the thick snow that only seemed to reach higher and higher up their legs by the minute.

Every perceptive nerve fired on all cylinders. Her body yearned—no, begged—for Sawyer to stop. To crumble into the mounds of snow and let the cold bite away at her body until she could feel nothing, not the ache of her muscles nor the frostbite dancing on her flesh.

But she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t. Not when their survival depended on every breath, every step.

Not when Mirren depended on her.

Sawyer’s breaths quickly became so strained that it was hard to breathe. Every intake of air was cold and unforgiving, drying her mouth and throat and making it impossible to catch her breath. She could hear Mirren’s breaths as well, loud and panting, soon to give out.

A sense of impending doom washed over Sawyer—this was it. It had to be it. Decades of training, missions, and yet nothing could prepare them for the brutality of this storm. A nasty concoction of anger and despair took over her shivering body at the realization that they might not make it. She wanted to think of her years, of her career, of her family, friends, and colleagues, but all she could do was think of Mirren.

Part of her was angry that she would likely die out here with Mirren, leaving whatever life they could have lived together remaining a mystery. The other part of her was almost glad that, if it were anyone out here with whom she would be stuck, it was Mirren.

Just when all hope felt lost, a small, breathy cry sounded out from behind her.

“Look!”

Instinctively, fear gripped Sawyer’s heart, and she jerked her head in Mirren’s direction to see if the woman was in danger. Instead, she was surprised to see hope written across her reddened face. It wasn’t until she noticed Mirren looking atsomething behind her and turned to find the faint outline of a structure in the distance did she, too, begin to feel that hope.

The second outpost…

“Oh my god,” Sawyer whispered under her breath, a newfound determination starting a small fire in the pit of her stomach that quickly grew into a raging flame. Sawyer turned to Mirren with no hesitation as she tucked her arm under the woman’s smaller one, latching onto her firmly but carefully and pulling her along. “Come on,” She urged, raising her voice over the whirl of the wind. “It’s right there. Let’s go!”

Together, Sawyer and Mirren picked up their pace as a fresh resolve took over. Their muscles and bones, weak and weary from what felt like hours of travel through the rough terrain, strengthened as they used the remaining drops of energy they had left to push themselves, push as hard as they could, as fast as they could. As the wind howled around them, and the shower of snow obstructed their vision, they continued on with a determination to prevail like never before.

“We’re almost there!” Sawyer shouted, and it wasn’t long before they crashed through the wooden doors of the second outpost. A wave of warmth, not quite heat, washed over them as they barreled inside and shut the door behind them. Sawyer, though weakened by their hard travels, didn’t hesitate to run over to the dresser to their right and push it in front of the door, just in case this outpost might give up like the last.

For a moment, neither of the women said anything as they collapsed to the ground in a series of raspy breaths. Mirren sat across from Sawyer, her face pale and gaunt beneath layers of frost-dusted clothing. Her eyes, though, remained sharp as ever, a beacon of calm amid the chaos.

For days, those eyes had been Sawyer’s anchor—focused, determined. It was because of her that they were still alive, thatSawyer had been able to push and remained resilient like never before.

“I can’t believe we made it,” Mirren said as shut her eyes tightly, while Sawyer glanced over and watched her carefully brushing frozen strands of hair from her face.

Sawyer tried to speak, but she was still too winded. She looked about the room, which was almost an exact replica of the previous outpost. She spotted a small measly pile of firewood in the corner next to the stove, and she didn’t hesitate to stand to her feet and get a fire going.

As the fire began to cackle, and Mirren and Sawyer both crawled closer, Sawyer glanced outside the small, frosted window. The storm was starting to break, which nearly angered her with it’s almost unfair timing.

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