Archie and Blanche set off on their own in the morning at a renewed pace, no longer anchored by the feeble Barley. But by noon, they slowed down again as they struggled against the wind that whipped through the valleys and blew snow off the mountaintops into a vapor that sparkled in the sun.

The morning dew froze and melted again, leaving a slick slush on every surface. Occasionally, Archie would move ahead, find good footing, and summon a contracting noodle to pull Blanche up. His ankles ached from the constant sliding, and more than once he and Blanche found themselves on all fours, crawling up treacherous inclines like wild beasts.

They spoke like beasts too, all grunts and growls. Archie offered an inquisitive one to Blanche as she fell behind. She grunted with affirmation and kept moving. It was all they had the breath for. They had climbed nearly as high as they had far, the air thinning out until Archie wasn't sure it was even there at all, his lungs burning from the cold.

As he walked, he imagined the gorges and grassy fields of the south. In his memory, they were more lush and green than ever, a place of infinite life and rejuvenation. Then his foot slipped and he remembered where he was. A desolate, lifeless land of whites and blacks and grays that angled up to the sky, a ramp that promised to lead them to sun and purge the chill from their bones. But as they climbed, it only got colder, and the sun hid behind gray clouds of no beginnings and no ends.

Exhaustion purged the troubles from Archie's mind. He no longer worried about the trivial matters that had kept him up at night. He was reduced to his most base instincts of survival, and in that, he found freedom. His only concerns were his footing and the wetness that crept into his socks and finding the best path up the slopes. It wasn't until they stopped for lunch that his humanity started crawling back, a thousand worries coming back to get their due.

"Tea," Blanche grunted. It was the first real word between them for hours.

Archie nodded and meant to grunt, but nothing came out. He swallowed and wished he hadn't, his throat catching fire as it ached for what little moisture it could find.

He slung his pack to the ground, the weight of a dozen new additions impacting it into the snow. There had been a great reorganization amongst the packs. Archie and Blanche had taken the lion's share of the rations, but they also had to take all of the antler dust, removing them from their jars and putting them into double-lined sacks in order to reduce the weight. But the laws of travel demanded equivalent exchange, and so for everything Archie and Blanche added to their packs, they had to give something up. Their change of clothes. An extra blanket. They took the smallest and lightest tent for the two of them.

And they had given up any cookware that wasn't Archie's omnihandle. He bent it into a serviceable pot, loaded it with snow, and struck up a fire, careful to use as little kindling as possible. The wood around the area was still dry enough to burn, but with the looming clouds, nothing was guaranteed. It was a lesson that Archie had learned well over his summer in Khala. Everything had to be rationed.

He took the dried brick of tea leaves from Blanche, the essence within it providing a different kind of warmth to his hands. The tea leaves had been given to them by one of the Bhantla's Chefs and contained a power of rejuvenation that Archie could only dream of making. He let the leaves crumble in his hands for a bit. He never thought he could, but he missed essence. He had taken it for granted. Even without consuming it or using it or manipulating it, just feeling essence all day had kept a wind in his sails. But here, in the farthest northern reaches of the world, his sails fell limp and empty and he found himself adrift without Ambrosia's presence.

They drank nourishing tea and hard biscuits that were as soft as the rocks beneath their feet. After a few bites, they found their voices again as they removed their damp socks and hung them over the fire.

"Do you think we're close?" Blanche asked.

Archie dipped his biscuit into the tea to make it edible. "You should know better than me."

Blanche set her tea aside and burrowed her hands beneath the layer of snow, closing her eyes. Archie felt her essence zip through the ground beneath him. She waited with a furrowed brow. Waited. Waited. Finally, she relaxed her body, but not her face.

"We're going in the right direction, at least. I can't tell a distance. But it's far. It's a wonder I can feel it at all."

"Alright. The Bhantla said it was within a week. We slowed down a lot yesterday, but…" Archie closed his eyes in bliss as he put on a dry pair of socks. "Maybe three more days? You think you have that in you?"

"Yep." Blanche did her best to warm up the mountainside with her smile, but it came across pained and forced. Blanche was a flower that was wilting in the cold.

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Archie wiped half-frozen snot from his nose and stared at what he thought looked like little footprints. "Thanks for going through this, Blanche."

"You kidding?" She smiled again, this time a little easier. "This is a once in a lifetime adventure! And I mean that. I'm never doing something like this twice."

They both laughed softly, neither wanting to expend too much energy. A single snowflake fell between them.

By the time they got on the move again, they spotted their second and third snowflakes. Particles danced overhead, driven from the north by the rising winds. Archie and Blanche finally made their way around the double-peaked mountain where the sun shone all day and melted snow that was refrozen by the fierce northern wind, making the ground frictionless and crunchy. But sliding wasn't as consequential on this side of the mountain, as Archie and Blanche made their way downhill and into a thicket of evergreens.

The icy branches needled and scratched at Archie's vulnerable, sunburnt face, but they also served to block the wind. After hours of trekking, the slope started to steepen again, and Archie could see the end of the treeline. They decided to end their day there, letting the trees shield them from the wind and letting the branches disperse the smoke of their fire.

They poked around the trees for a while, finding a couple of meaty mushrooms and a handful of beech nuts that they prepared into a stew that left Archie missing even Khaldeer's food. Blanche pointed out a white hare, screaming when Archie felled it with a single shot of his blueberry slingshot.

"I don't trust anything that moves," he explained as he shifted the omnihandle into a knife that was only sharp at its point. "And we need the meat."

Blanche didn't speak to him until they had eaten their fill of the much-improved stew. "Do you want help setting up the tent?"

"Yeah. Let's gather up some pine needles first so we're insulated from the ground."

The tent went up, the fire went out, and soon, Archie and Blanche found themselves barely separated in the tent, their packs squeezing them to one side. The sun did not set, but it dipped below a mountain, casting their tent in a dim gray.

"I forgive you," Blanche said, her warm breath tickling Archie's skin.

"For what?"

"For the bunny. I needed that. Real food. I would have gone crazy otherwise."

"I didn't even think twice about shooting it," he chuckled. Then he got quiet. "I don't think I've ever killed anything before. I mean, you know, other than a bug or something."

"Hm."

Archie watched the canvas of the tent ripple in the wind. "It's weird how quick it happened. I mean. It was there one second, then…pop. Its whole life. Just gone."

"Archie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we talk about something other than death?"

Archie chuckled. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

She rolled over to look at Archie, her long brown bangs getting caught on her jet black eyebrows. "I was thinking about Nori. I think I could talk Head Chef Quince into letting us use one of the fields to grow stuff for Khaldeer. We could send a monthly carriage or something. Then maybe Nori would stay."

"That's—"

"It would take a while to get it going, I know. We'd have to cultivate the fields and figure out some kind of deal to get the food transported. Maybe we can go through Palm Coast. Get it sent by ship. Or I was thinking that when the Ambrosial Summit happens, we could give a big bounty to Khala. So it'd be like a yearly gift."

Archie thought of all the possible complications. The cost. They wouldn't be able to shoulder it as students. Even Aubergine might not have the pull to make it happen. It didn't seem like a real possibility, and Archie didn't want Blanche to stress out any more than she already had.

"Sutton and I have a plan," he said. "Barnacle boards."

"Barnacle boards?"

"Sutton figured out that we could use the yetis' wood to make a sort of…barnacle farm. They grow with the essence."

"I thought we were just getting an acorn for Sain."

"If we can. But the boards…they take priority. I didn't want to tell Nori in case it didn't work out."

Blanche flashed a smile, then turned away as it disappeared. "You'd do that for her?"

"It's not…it's not just for her. But yes."

Blanche titled her face away even farther. "Are you and Nori a thing?"

Archie's heart echoed in his ears. He took a deep breath as he considered the question. "I don't know. I don't…There might have been a…a moment. A window. But…We already have—it's…I would do anything for her. But things are good. We work. I don't…"

"It's okay, Archie. I was just curious." Blanche turned with a mischievous grin. "We won't let her leave."

"Yeah." Archie smiled. "We just need to find the yetis. Or for them to find us."

They laid in silence until they fell asleep.

A scurrying sound from outside the tent woke Archie up. He lifted his head, but something weighed down his chest. A brief flash of panic went through him before he realized that Blanche had cuddled up to him, laying her head on him. Still, some survival instinct stayed lit up inside him as he listened for footsteps and watched the entrance of the tent.

Every crackling branch in the wind was a threat, every moonlit shadow a beast. Archie remembered Barley's song.

Enukin enukin, little and meek. They take all your food and then you when you're weak.

He gently pushed Blanche off of him and pulled their bags closer to them. He conjured his noodle slingshot, notched a blueberry in it, and watched the tent flap sway in the wind for as long as he could before he succumbed to exhaustion.

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