Page 8 of Battle of Hearts

Mirren groaned in response, then turned to look through the back window of the vehicle. “Even if it had started, I don’t know if we would’ve made it back.”

Sawyer turned around to glance out the back window, dread seeping into her pores at the realization. The snowfall was so heavy and blinding, the snow on the ground so thick, that they couldn’t see more than a couple of yards behind them, let alone see the road they’d taken to get here. Their surroundings seemed to blend together in a perfect, chilling white blur.

Sawyer’s jaw clenched as she faced forward, the gravity of their situation settling over her like the weight of the storm itself. “We’re stuck here, then,” she said, undoing her seatbelt. A few moments of frustrating silence passed before she added, “Let’s go back inside. We’ll have to ride this out and hope for the best.”

The two took a breath before they exited the vehicle moments later, the reality of being stranded at the outpost hitting them both with an unsettling finality. The storm wasn’t just atemporary inconvenience; it was now a powerful force that had severed their connection to safety back at the base.

They couldn’t get in contact with anyone back at the base. They couldn’t drive back. Hiking back wasn’t even an option.

The small, isolated outpost, once a temporary checkpoint, had become their refuge—and their prison.

The wind howled and the snow battered the outpost’s walls with relentless force as Sawyer and Mirren ventured inside once more, shutting the door forcefully behind them. The door creaked violently, the wind threatening to break through, which inspired Sawyer to throw her belongings to the ground and push one of the dressers in front of the door to keep it in place.

Mirren made her way to the fire they’d just doused while Sawyer quickly unpacked their belongings, shivering violently as she did so. Halfway through, she eventually abandoned all efforts and made her way over to help tend to the fire, aiding it to return to its original strength.

“Come closer,” Mirren quivered through shaky breaths, pulling her chair so it sat directly in front of the fire, perhaps a tad too close.

Sawyer didn’t say a word as she inched her chair closer to the fire, as well, the old wood whining in protest as she pulled it to a stop directly next to Mirren’s, their chairs practically touching. Their breaths mingled in the frigid air, creating small clouds that dissipated quickly. For a long moment their focus remained on the fire before eventually they exchanged looks with one another, each glance between them punctuated by a shared, unspoken understanding of the severity of their situation.

“We have to make sure all the windows are tightly sealed,” Sawyer murmured minutes later. “We may have to put something else in front of the door to help reinforce it. We can’t afford to lose any heat.”

Mirren nodded, peering upward and scanning the windows for any gaps that might let in the cold. “I think I’ll tape around the edges just to be safe. And I’ll keep an eye on the stove to ensure it stays operational.”

The outpost’s interior, while a small relief from the storm’s intensity, was far from comfortable. The wood stove crackled weakly in front of them, its warmth barely sufficient to fend off the violent chill. The small space felt even more cramped with the addition of their equipment and supplies, forcing them into an intimate proximity that neither could ignore.

Sawyer glanced to her right to meet Mirren’s eyes. The space between them was so cramped that they could practically feel one another’s breaths brushing their faces. Through their shared struggle, the tension and connection between the two of them became increasingly palpable.

Sawyer’s gaze dropped to Mirren’s lips, just barely, before lifting to meet her eyes. The attraction for the younger woman that had once simmered beneath the surface was now more pronounced, fueled by the isolation, their proximity, and now their unintentional closeness to one another. The captain couldn’t help but put full focus on admiring the woman’s beauty. She was gorgeous, and being this close to her gave her the opportunity to really take a moment to appreciate it. Faint freckles decorated Mirren’s nose and cheeks, barely visible against the violent blushing of her cheeks.

“So, what do you think the chances are of the storm letting up soon?” Sawyer asked, trying to keep her tone light despite the undercurrent of tension.

Mirren shook her head, her expression grave. “I-I don’t know…” She trailed off, seemingly distracted by their closeness. “The, um, forecasts suggest it could last several days. We may be in for the long haul.”

Sawyer clenched her jaw. They were isolated with no way to communicate with the outside world and no immediate prospects for rescue. And they had no clue how long it would be like this.

Silence overtook them as they both faced forward toward the fire. The silence between them was comfortable at first. The pair sat without speaking for a while, before Mirren parted to switch between her instruments in attempt to collect more data before they lost connection. Mirren frustratingly switched between each of her devices, all of them struggling to maintain their connections. About an hour passed before she watched Sawyer rise from her seat in front of the fire and begin to unpack the rest of their things.

Hours passed before the two women found themselves in front of the fireplace once more, sitting side by side, plates of food in their hands. Tonight’s menu consisted of brown rice and pieces of steak and broccoli, which would have been rather enjoyable if it hadn’t been for their circumstances.

After their meal, Mirren was the first to break the silence, her voice soft but steady. “You ever been caught in a storm like this before?”

Sawyer glanced up, her green eyes meeting Mirren’s. “A few times,” she replied. “But nothing quite like this. It’s one of those things you can never fully prepare for, no matter how many times you go through it.”

Mirren nodded, her gaze dropping to the flickering flames. “I’ve always loved the weather—studying it, predicting it. But being out here in the middle of something like this…it’s different. It’s not just data or charts—it’s real, and it’s terrifying.”

Sawyer leaned back in her chair studying Mirren’s profile as the firelight played across her features. “You’re handling it well, though. I’ve seen soldiers fall apart in less severe conditions.”

Mirren smiled faintly, a hint of gratitude in her eyes. “Thanks. But I think a lot of it has to do with who you’re with. I know I’m in good hands.” She couldn’t help herself, couldn’t bite her tongue from sharing her adoration for the woman. She watched Sawyer’s eyes carefully after her words, watching as the emerald hues held a flicker of what seemed to be shyness before being replaced by her normal neutral look.

The words hung in the air between them, the simple statement carrying more weight than either had intended. Sawyer shifted in her seat, the tension that had simmered beneath the surface all day now crackling between them like the fire.

“You’re a good soldier, Mirren,” Sawyer said quietly, moments later, her voice rougher than she intended. “And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Mirren looked up, her blue eyes locking onto Sawyer’s. Her heart throbbed so violently against her chest she feared it might burst through her ribcage. Was Sawyer… complimenting her? Had the captain herself really just said she was grateful Mirren was there in her?

There was something in the captain’s gaze—something vulnerable, almost hesitant—that sent a shiver down Mirren’s spine, and gathered a pool of heat in her crotch. The distance between them felt like both too much and not enough, the small space of the outpost suddenly feeling even smaller.

Mirren licked her lips, struggling to find her voice. She suddenly stood up, moving closer to the stove under the pretense of checking the fire. “It’s getting colder,” she murmured, more to herself than to Sawyer.

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