you do not know who is your friend
and who is your enemy
If his strength of spirit was not enough, her encouragement would've been. It was strange to have a stranger cheering you on in their own way, little frustrated whines making it to his ears. They were almost drowned out by the savage roar of his pulse. Maybe it was only about getting out of a damn hole, but his heart beat as if he fought for his life—and in a way, maybe he did. Maybe he fought for his place in the world, to prove that he was more than just a moonlit shadow.
No matter. He fell out, and all was joy, except that they were both wet. His thick underfur had done its best to save him, but the dunking had been thorough, and he felt his temperature drop at least five more degrees out of sheer sympathy for Morganna. She was shaking pretty badly, and it pulled him from the frozen ground. "Probably," he responded. He'd never explored the north, and had no idea what lay out there. He'd happened to set out west after passing through Kingsfall, and hadn't caught much more than a glance at the vast expanse of the tundra. So as it was, he was at her mercy—or they'd both be dead, in which case everything was fine, too.
Slowly, Ice moved to stand beside her, to, if she allowed it, press his side against hers. Shared heat was doubled heat, and maybe he'd be of some use as a wind break. "Let's go, then," he half-suggested, half-asked, ready to fall into pace next to her. "As for where I was going before this charming little detour—" She had kind of joked about it, so why not he too? "—I'm headed for Oak Tree Bend, or whatever's left of it." He blinked. She had a most peculiar accent, and one he couldn't remember Elettra sporting.
Then again, there was a lot of shit he didn't remember.