An Icy Accident Finished

@Katrina Walker

There was something about the way the sun twinkled on the snow outside the Gryffindor towers that brought a huge smile to Piérre’s face. He absolutely loved snow. School was uneventful, life had been a bit bland, and Piérre was looking for fun.

Outdoors, on the great lawn, seemed to be the best option, for the enchanting silver snowflakes which glittered like precious shaved platinum beckoned for fun and mischief. Yanking on his black Scottish jacket which he had bought at Diagon Alley what seemed forever ago after pulling on a pair of long johns and a warm shirt, Piérre dashed out the portrait hole and practically skipped all the way to the snowy outdoors.

There were certainly some children about, some enjoying the crisp weather, some just walking about casually, enjoying the weather. Entranced by these people, Piérre found himself drawing closer and closer to the thin sheet of ice that was known as the Great Lake.

So much for the young Britalian had transpired there, and even only in his first year. The initial arrival to the great school of magic, the departure of his first and only friend at the time, and some other events which were amazing and also intriguing in their own ways. With a small hum as he tucked his nose into his collar, Piérre looked over the silver covered lake, shoving his hands in his pockets as he tentatively touched the edge of the lake with a foot. Beneath his light touch, the lake cracked and Piérre jumped back in surprise. It was far too thin to do anything on it yet. Give it a few weeks, though, for Piérre had heard that they were going to get a cold snap soon, and skating would be in excellent supply.

With a contented sigh, Piérre walked to a nearby tree and leaned against it, breathing in the frosty air. There was a snap and Piérre’s smile equally snapped into a frown. It was the familiar sound of ice breaking. Jumping to his feet as a shrill cry of help pierced the air, Piérre’s head snapped to the sound. A young girl with russet hair with a singular teal streak in her hair was sitting completely still on the thinnest part of the ice, watching in horror as spidery cracks spread throughout the crystalline ice.

Piérre’s eyes widened. This was all too familiar in all sorts of movies. The ice, it was about to...

”Get to a thicker part! Kat! No!” Piérre wailed, but it was too late. The ice had given way and her hair had been the last streak of colour before she completely went under. Before he realized what was going on, Piérre had thrown off his heavy coat and his warmer exterior shirt, leaving a thin t-shirt beneath. He was running towards the gap in the ice, though he hardly knew why. Something had lit up inside his chest and his throat, a burning sensation that Piérre could not name. Was it fear? Adrenaline?

No time to think. Time seemed to slow as he ran onto the lake, cracks forming around his feet as he ran across the spidered surface. The thought never crossed his mind that perhaps calling a professor or an older student would have been wise. Indeed, if one fell into immediate shock, cardiac arrest was possible. It took three minutes under ice to lose consciousness, four to irreversible brain damage, death possible at five, probable at seven, definite at ten.

Piérre dove into the water in less than three seconds.

Immediately, Piérre was struck with the shock of bitterly cold water and for a second, he forgot how his limbs were supposed to work. The first part of the freezing process. Strangling in the water for a second, Piérre forced his gaze downwards, attempting to ignore the sensation of thousands of freezing needles piercing his cheeks and limbs. Just below him, he could see a bubble of air, no doubt left by Katrina’s foolish exhaling. Fear began to alight in his chest, and Piérre forced the warmth into his arms and legs, pushing him further and further below the light that was fading above him.

Fear tightened in Piérre’s chest as he began to feel his waning breath. Kicking harder than what he thought possible, he finally saw the silhouette of Katrina just below him, her hair floating like an angel’s, her lips barely tinted blue from cold, and her face pale. She was already unconscious. Piérre didn’t have much time.

A tiny bubble of air escaping his lips, Piérre scooped his arms under hers, pushing her over his head as he attempted to focus on the skies above him, a point in where he wanted to be. Cold was starting to get to him, the young Italian’s fingers losing sensation and his face growing numb. At this point it didn’t matter about his discomfort, he had to get Katrina to the surface alive, though he hardly knew why or how come.

Lungs burning, Piérre inadvertently let another large bubble of precious oxygen leave his lips. His legs locking up, Piérre slipped one of his arms away from Katrina and used it to propel himself upward in place of his legs, being sure of leave his other one wrapped tightly around the unconscious girl, who seemed to be growing heavier and heavier every second. The lights above his head seemed to blur and fade, though Piérre knew he could only be getting closer and closer to the crack in the ice.

It was only then that the young boy remembered that he couldn’t truly swim. Indeed, it had been when he was three that Piérre had been on a hike with the Bianchis, he had wandered away with Romeo and had fallen into a rapids, nearly drowning before Romeo had drawn him out. From that point on, Piérre had never swim or learned to float, let alone how to save a person out of freezing cold water.

That was why when the young boy felt the freeze reaching his heart and lungs, Piérre, with a final surge of will, pushed Kat to the surface, shoving her over the edge of the ice to the thicker part which would not break and would save her from falling in once again.

Darkness rising on all sides of him, as if they longed to pull him below and make him one of their numbers. Piérre felt hard ice beneath fingers which clawed at the break of the ice, his frozen muscles barely permitting his face to rise above the water level. Gasping a breath of air, Piérre attempted to crawl out of the shattered ice, but just as he thought he could make it, he slipped, the numbness of his fingers too much for the young boy, and he plunged beneath the waves again, his pale, white knuckles the only sign that he was still holding on for dear life.

”I can’t... I have to get up... Katrina needs me... Hypothermia...” The cold was beginning to turn to delirium. ”Why is it so warm? It’s so soft... maybe I can just...”

The gently shining light above him rippled in many different hues, and the shadows all around only added to its beauty. So much unknown to be discovered beneath the waves, and Piérre felt as if he could breathe forever. How much easier would it be to let go and see if he could spot for himself the alleged giant squid that lived near the Slytherin common room? Maybe he could go and see it for himself! Say hello to all the inhabitants...

A final, large bubble left his lips, and his hand slipped away from the ice and into the treacherous dark.

There was a subtle swaying. Not unlike the trees branches in an autumn breeze. Bending side to side in the constant breeze. Swishing slightly up and down. Floating in the sky, like a feather suspended in the light wind.

And a calmness, cloaking every thought. It was warm, fuzzy warm like the blankets before the winter fire. Her will snuffed out like a candle. It was peaceful and cool here. Not warm, cool.

She just wanted to float there for eternity. Then she was flying, soaring through the great blue. Like a dragon soaring high above the clouds. But the cool, wasn’t so pleasant.

The cool turned into a knife, cutting through the fuzzy blanket. Her mind spilled forward, running a mile a minute. Cold, so cold. Katrina loved winter, but she hardly went outside. Instead, she curled up by the fire reading books. But this was like being plunged into the arctic.

Katrina’s consciousness regained its rightful place. Her lungs begged for air, her shaky breaths, each interrupted by uncontrollable shudders. She couldn’t feel her fingers or most of her arms and legs for that point. The only part of her that wasn’t freezing was her core. The only reason is that she was curled into a tiny ball on the surface of the ice.

The surface! She wasn’t in the cold water anymore. She was on the crusty surface of the ice. How did she get above the too-cold-oblivion? Katrina could see the gaping hole where she had fallen in.

Then, she saw something. A person, floating like she had been. Sinking far too fast. He had chestnut brown hair, suspended in the cold. The breath escaped her blue-tinged lips as she recognized Piérre. No longer did she feel the cold.

As the Gryffindor tried to stand up, everything spun. But not the dizziness she was used to, a horrible rolling motion. Like a twig in the current of a storm-tossed ocean. She fell to her knees, reddened hands on the ice again.

She had hypothermia. Katrina’s life-saving healing knowledge hit her full force. The dizziness, lack of coordination, red hands, unconsciousness, it all added up. She needed to warm up, go to a doctor, not get any colder. But she couldn’t, she needed to save Piérre.

And he was sinking fast. Before she could over-analyze her actions, Katrina was diving in the cold again. She swam down, oblivious to the freezing water. This time, she had a reason to not succumb to the winter. Each stroke was so slow compared to his sinking rate. Her eyes stung fiercely from the water.
Then, she reached him. Her arm wrapped around his waist. Then she was pushing upwards. It was so cold, and so hard to do. She felt so weak, but the cold wasn’t bothering her anymore. They were at the surface. Katrina gladly drank the air in large gulps. Somehow, she managed to hoist him out of the water, and get out as well.

She couldn’t feel the cold. That was bad, very bad. But, her mind didn’t care. Piérre was okay.
Katrina lay down for a few seconds before realizing that she needed to get off the ice. But she recognized the feeling that she was losing consciousness again. Everything tried to slip away, but she was fighting this time.

Piérre was laying in front of her, several feet closer to the shore. Katrina pushed him with all of the force in her weak arms. She didn’t bother looking to see if he made it before dragging herself to the shore.

It was all too much again. The hypothermia finally settling in. “Piérre, wake up. Piérre…” Katrina shook him. "You need to wake up, please," she shook him again, "I don't know how long I can hang on..."

@Katrina Walker

”Mama? What does ‘adopted’ mean?” Piérre’s bright green eyes peered inquisitively up at a woman who looked almost nothing like him. She had a round, kind face, dark brown hair like ebony, and pitch black eyes. She was bouncing him on her knee, and Piérre was tugging at a gold necklace which surrounded her throat. The dress that she wore was of a beautiful floral design, and it looked as if it were made of nothing but flowers and lace. At hearing the young boy’s question, the woman smiled kindly.

”Adopted? Wherever did you hear of that word?”

”Romeo heard you and papa talking about it. He told me that it means that you really aren’t my mama.”

The woman’s hand stopped caressing Piérre’s hair and Piérre could feel her hold tighten slightly around him. ”Romeo misinformed you.” She said at last, her voice a little blunt. Piérre tipped his head. He knew his brother a little to well to suddenly swallow up the idea that his brother was just... wrong. His brother was far more intent and intelligent than to outright lie to his brother. If anything, Piérre was more likely to lie to Romeo.

The woman seemed to realized this, for at last a heavy sigh left her. ”Piérre... You remember when we first moved, right?”

Piérre nodded hastily, turning a little red. Romeo had gotten angry at him for getting into the kitchen cupboards, for Piérre had suddenly teleported there. This resulted in the angry five year old brother picking up and throwing the kitchen oven across the room, effectively breaking the gas lines. Of course, Piérre thought this entirely funny, and his teleportation only increased. It wasn’t until Eleanor and Carlos found the two boys, in an all out brawl, Piérre running on the ceiling and Romeo throwing things at him, witnessing the oven on the other side of the room, that the two of them scooped the twins up and bustled them out the door, but not before Piérre had thrown something of his own at Romeo: a singular geode that he had found on the side of the road one day.

The stone struck a spark, and the house had burst into flames.

”You are a very special boy, Piérre. You and your brother.” Eleanor began to stroke Piérre’s head again. Gently, Piérre laid his head on her sternum, listening to her heartbeat like any young boy eager for a mother’s presence. ”Sometimes we don’t know how we can raise you correctly, because of your special talents... But we love you and Romeo just as much because of it.” Eleanor looked down at the young boy, who appeared to be nodding off. ”The night we found you two was a beautiful night. You were a quiet one, but Romeo wailed and wailed!” Eleanor let her words sink into the mind of Piérre, who was looking out of half-closed eyes.

”We were so happy... We loved you the moment we set eyes on you.”

Piérre suddenly sat up, almost clipping Eleanor’s chin with his head. ”Really?”

”Certainly. And how couldn’t we, now that you’ve made out lives so much happier?” Eleanor’s dark black eyes sparkled with joy. ”I only wished that you were completely ours.”

Piérre’s eyes fell. ”So Romeo was right...” He trailed off, discouraged.

”No! Romeo is not right!” Eleanor tried to lift Piérre’s chin to look at her once again. ”Just because we aren’t your real parents doesn’t mean we love you any less! You have given us happiness that we had never known up to this point.”

”But why aren’t you our real parents? You’ve done everything that everyone else’s parents do for them.” Piérre asked.

To this, Eleanor had no answer, and she could only smile wanly. Piérre looked at her for a few more seconds before laying down again. ”Maybe they didn’t want me.”

”Nonsense!” Eleanor began, startled by Piérre’s observation. ”I’m sure that_”

”No, mama.” Said Piérre, looking up at her with a ghost of sadness in those green eyes. ”If they wanted me and Romeo... they would have kept us. Was I a mistake, mama?” Piérre looked away, and Eleanor realized that Piérre’s inquiry was not directed towards her, but rather to whomever could listen. He was not speaking to the mother before him, but to the mother who must have loved him and then vanished without a trace.

”No.” Eleanor whispered as she heard Piérre drifting off to sleep. ”You are not a mistake.”

You are not a mistake...

You are not a mistake...

You... are not...

He was being dragged through liquid concrete, a mass that seemed tear at him, wanting to pull him down, to induct him to their depths. And then, numbness as he felt himself moved, pushed away from something, the cement loosing their fingers from him and now the claws of ice digging into his body anywhere they could. Whey was he so cold?

Finally, he stopped moving, and then the voices began... It sounded like a choir of them, all talking at the same time, each one different and terrible in their own way.

”Why are you leaving me?! Why?! WHY?!”

”Very intriguing, Mister Marchonné...”

”We regret to inform you that Mister and Miss Bianchi have departed from us in a lethal accident...”

”I can’t stay here, Piérre! I’m sorry!”

”Piérre and Romeo Marchonné, I presume? Good... I am Mathilda Wendigo...”

”What’s with your ears? Are you the Devil or somethin’?”

”Lookit him! His ears and his superstitions, he’s a witch! You know what we humans did to witches back in the day? Huh?”

”I’m... I’m not a devil... stop... stop it please... Perdonami! Italian- Forgive me!” Piérre grimaced as he attempted to move, but every attempt was quashed as his muscles refused to permit him the freedom of escape. And yet, in the depths of his confusion and will to escape, there was one more voice, one who was frantic and scared, and one that Piérre thought he was familiar with.

”Piérre, wake up. Piérre...”

A jostle that caused Piérre’s head to shake from side to side like a broken doll’s, it hurt, and he grimaced as he thought that the force would break his neck because of how cold his nerves were.

”You need to wake up, please!”

Another shake, this time a yelp came from him.

”I don’t know how long I can hang on...”

Green eyes flashed open with a gasp and Piérre began shaking almost immediately from the cold. His lips were blue and his skin so pale you could see purple in his cheeks instead of a healthy rose. No tan was visible anymore, even if he had one to begin with and Piérre was looking frantically around him. He felt as if he were made of lead, and if he wasn’t, then he was made of glass. He didn’t want to move, even if he could. Kat was directly over him. His lips pursed in a way that meant he was going to speak, but the only thing that left him was a small gasp, as if he were struggling for breath.

With sudden will, Piérre flipped onto his stomach, ignoring the cold of the snow on his stomach, and began to cough, spitting up mouthful after mouthful of water. It was desperately cold. Why was it so cold? Was he dying? Was Kat dying?

Frozen, bluing fingers reaching for a handhold, Piérre pushed himself to his knees, crawling towards the nearby tree where he had left his long shirt and warm coat. His vision blurred and his mind was spinning as his heart echoed in his ears. Snatching the hood of his jacket, Piérre whisked it about Katrina, using what remained of his energy to rub her with it. She couldn’t go into shock. They had to stay warm enough to get inside the castle, or at least call for help.

Piérre had never been able to handle the cold, nor was he exceptionally good at regulating his body temperature. His temperature fluctuated wildly depending on the season and environment, but he knew enough about a human body to know that too cold and things would head south.

”N-n-need t-to g-g-g-get ind-d-doors, K-Kat...” He chattered, trying to rub harder to warm Katrina up. ”H-hospital Wing... C-can you walk?”

Piérre still couldn’t feel his feet, and should Katrina try to get him to his feet, Piérre would be likened to a dead weight of about 97 pounds. It was clear that the Britalian was unable to walk, and that his anxiety had rocketed clear out the roof.

In a flurry of motion, Piérre was awake again. He was shaking as much as Katrina had been and he looked frantic and terrified. As if it was not the cold that was bothering him, but a terror Katrina could not see. His eyes sparkled in the snow, his pallid face and bluing lips only accentuated them. The girl gave a ghost of a smile as his eyes met hers.

Katrina drew herself up to a better seated position. Both legs were off to one side and an arm supported her. She would have tried to stand up, but the world was still swirling dangerously when she wasn't worried for Piérre’s life. The shivering had stopped now, and she was starting to warm up. Meanwhile, Piérre crawled away to a jacket. She cocked her head to one side confused by why there was clothes on a rock.

He wrapped the cloak around her and rubbed her as if trying to warm her up. But she was already warm. In fact, tiny beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She opened her mouth to complain, but all that came out was something like "Imrfine"

It took a long time for Piérre’s voice to register. Her blank eyes had been focused on a crystalized leaf. The leaf was gorgeous when frozen. Each string was beautiful and tiny icicles coated it. How odd was it that the top of the leaf seemed to bend up, when gravity should have bent it the opposite way. It was also odd that the leaf seemed to sparkle and shimmer in the light. There were no other leaves around, so this one was unique. Katrina felt that if she looked away, the leaf would whisk away into the autumn-- no winter air. When his voice did sink in, she glanced at him, then back to the leaf. Or where the leaf should have been. It was indeed gone.

Katrina hadn't really understood what he had said, "What do you think about Hogwarts?" the Gryffindor inquired, serious for the first time since the letter had been delivered. But she wasn't truly with Piérre, she was with Liam.

Katrina heard Liam's voice say in a chattering tone, "H-hospital Wing" She must have heard him wrong, what was a wing of a hospital?

"What?" Katrina's eyebrow rose in question.

"C-can you walk?"

Katrina was back. It seemed Piérre hadn't noticed her absence. But she was back, and it was even more evident that they move. She was delusional now, Katrina wasn't sure if it was still the hypothermia or something worse.

The 12-year-old struggled to her feet, almost falling on Piérre. She looked at the castle, it wasn't too far away. But if either one of them couldn't walk, it could take much longer than the ten minutes it had taken to get to the lake.

Katrina took Piérre’s hand, not noticing how dangerously cold it was. She tried to tug him to his feet, but she was extremely weak. Her hand slipped and Katrina stumbled back a few steps, her mind swimming with nausea. The lioness slipped to the ground.

"We should walk together" she offered, randomly remembering how he had gotten the coat that was still wrapped around her. Surely Piérre needed the coat as much as she did, why had he given it to her? But she was getting too hot now. She kept it on anyway.

As soon as her focus returned, Katrina came beside him and wrapped an arm around him. "On three we stand up." Katrina's breathy voice almost fluttering on the breeze. Each breath was getting harder and harder to draw in. She gritted her teeth and spoke louder this time. "One... two... three!"

@Katrina Walker

Piérre had felt the tip of his nose freeze off before, when he had first been inducted to England and was just getting used to actual snow and cold, but nothing like this before. Kat seemed to be doing a little better, even if she had spoken something Piérre had not expected her to say. The words had fallen on deaf ears, however, as Piérre's eyes had closed, ice beginning to freeze on his surprisingly long eyelashes.

It was not until Kat made a move of standing, almost falling upon the young boy, that Piérre attempted to open his eyes again, looking blearily up at her, still wrapped in his coat. He completely forgot that he was only in a white t-shirt, but he felt warm just looking at the jacket, so that had to be good, right?

Eventually, the young Kat slipped to the ground next to him and Piérre resisted the urge to cuddle into the coat like he would have done to Romeo had Piérre gotten too cold for his own good. Kat suggested doing it together, and Piérre finally smiled, nodding in agreement. The three seconds felt like agony, but eventually, it was counted off, and Piérre tried to force some remaining energy into his legs, finally able to stand. Carrying Kat more than he was himself, Piérre began to stagger towards the castle, ignoring the daggers which pricked his cheeks and eyes.

They would never make it, and there didn't seem to be any other students around. They would freeze if Piérre didn't do something.

A warm pulse in his pocket brought some attention back to him. He still had his wand in his pocket!

Numb finger making their way to the green handle, Piérre yanked it out and with a flick of his hand, directed the shape of a flame in the air and directed it at the roots of the tree, towards his dry, red cotton sweater. "Incendio!"

Reducio

Rolled in Discord, rolled a 7, Wisdom 7 = 14 Success

Scarlet flames licked from the end of his wand and leapt greedily to the sweater, causing it to burst into flames and send a heat wave across Piérre's and Kat's faces. Piérre laughed waving his wand around like a child, which to be fair, he was.

"Th-this c-c-can d-do us g-good f-f-for now." Piérre gasped at the warm air, smiling up at Kat again.

It was getting increasingly hard to focus. Each snowflake caused the 12-year-old's mind to wander. The creak of the trees broke her thoughts. Each rattling breath she took distracted the poor girl. She kept forgetting where she was or what she was doing. Each second spent in the cold was doing exponential damage to her.

The momentary warmth from the growing hypothermia was fading fast. Her hands were shaking so hard, she could hardly keep them around Piérre 's shoulder. The red color of her hands was frightening to say the least. A crust of ice was making it hard to open her mouth or blink. Soon enough her body would shut down, she needed warmth back before that happened.

The two staggered for several steps; both trying to carry the other. With each movement forward, it seemed like the castle moved farther away. Realization dawned on Katrina. They weren't going to make it. It was too cold and they were both too weak. Neither had any advantage over the other, and it seemed no one was around to save them.

Piérre dug in his pocket and Katrina glanced over. He was just in a white t-shirt. Alarm registered in her slurred mind, and Katrina drew her arm out of one sleeve and draped the coat around him, drawing the two closer together. With a spark of genius, he thought to cast the fire spell. Katrina wondered if he was alright loosing a sweater, but the need for warmth overpowered her train of thought.

Her parents had died in a fire. Typically, Katrina would be terrified out of her wits. But her frozen mind didn't even register it. Most people were scared of spiders or small spaces, she was terrified of fire. The Masked Ball had only added to that. Despite her innate fear, Katrina herded herself and Piérre over to the flames.

She knew better than to melt onto the ground, but did it anyway. Katrina gave a thankful, shaky laugh at Pierre. He waved his wand around giddily.

"I-Indeed," She agreed and curled into a small ball on the snow, the wet slowly seeping through her knees, which rested on the white.

The flames rushed heat at her. It was so warm it hurt, but Katrina hardly noticed. Her hair thawed and dripped water onto the snow. The lioness found the energy to wring out her hair, getting the wet off of her neck and scalp. The ice crusted on her face came off with one swipe of her hand. Slowly, the color returned to her hands, although they were still stained pink and her lips were still blue.

Katrina found herself looking back at Piérre , he had saved her life. He risked his life for her. Katrina's thoughtful gaze was so intent that she didn't realize how long she was staring. "You s-saved my l-life," she chattered out.

The flames on the sweater began to die down, and Katrina's mind solidified on the thought that they needed to get to the castle, while they were still warmed from the fire.

"I th-think we sh-should go soon," Katrina said, not meaning to speak out loud, "We need t-to be inside before the melted snow fr-freezes on us again,"

Katrina found Pierre's gaze, "R-ready?"

@Katrina Walker

The danger of complete death was over. Thank God for that. It had been a good thing that Piérre had remembered how to cast the Fire-making charm in the first place and that his chattering had not completely screwed everything up. Lord knew what could have happened if the spell had backfired upon him and Kat.

Well, they wouldn't have been cold anymore, that was for sure.

Now that he was by the crackling fire of his own sweater, Piérre snapped off a couple low hanging branches from the tree overhead, feeding it to the fire to keep it burning for just a bit longer. They would have to leave eventually, sooner rather than later, but Piérre just wanted to get some more feeling into him before they made the journey back. Puffing into his hands and the rubbing them briskly, Piérre sighed as heat washed over his face. What was it about the mere element of fire that was so intriguing? So mystifying... and so gorgeous? And dangerous. So, so desperately dangerous.

"You saved my life." Kat had said.

Piérre felt a chill run down his spine. Not that of cold, but more of that of recollection and eventual acceptance. He had been reckless enough to jump in, knowing full well he probably would have been unable to make it back to shore. He had done it because of something else. The desire to save... the desire to make sure that nobody could have been harmed. Something that had lain deep in his carefree and impish ways; the love of a person that perhaps didn't lie within the emotional aspect, but more like the aspect that had been placed in mankind from its beginning. The desire to protect their own kind like a mother protecting their young.

"Y... Yeah." Piérre stammered. "I guess... I guess I did..."

Silence from him as his green eyes feasted on the hungry flames. "But... but you shouldn't have gone out that far! Couldn't you see the dark spots on the lake?!" It wasn't a shout, or a chide; it was more like an imperative, like a teacher pointing out something on their lecture that hadn't been noticed previously. Having the natural... phobia, if that was what it was, of large bodies of water and drowning in them, Piérre had gotten good at avoiding them, and especially when he had started his childhood in England, he had quickly learned how to tell if the ice for hockey or figure skating was stable enough to hold. Indeed, the ice on the Great Lake was spotted black in places, a telltale sign that the ice sheet was thin and unstable. "I would have never forgiven myself if... if I hadn't done something."

Self-preservation wasn't something that Piérre was unfamiliar with. On the contrary, Piérre was well-versed in abandoning ship and leaving others who were more suited to the task to deal with the issue while he saved his own life. But leaving someone to die, while you watched in safety. That was something that was unforgivable. Something that you could never redeem yourself from. Far be it from the gentle-heart which found itself in Piérre's bosom to neglect its sworn duty.

Before long, Piérre had finally regained control of his muscles and was now easily stretching out, ignoring the biting cold whenever he got a little too far from the fire's warmth. Kat was ready, and so was Piérre. With a grin and raised eyebrows, Piérre jumped to his feet, as energetic as if nothing had ever occurred, and he offered a hand to Kat. "Ready. This'll be a tale for the history books, huh?" He jested lightly as he accepted a portion of the coat. He still left Kat the majority of it, but both of them needed to get dry as soon as they found themselves in the castle's walls.

As they went, Piérre sang out a merry melody as he almost skipped to the beat, intending to instill a newfound hope within the two of them now heading for the castle.

"I close my eyes, and I can see,
A world that's waiting up for me...
That I call my own...
Through the dark, through the door,
Through where no-one's been before...
But it feels like home..."

Piérre leaves the thread

Piérre chastised Katrina in a very 'teacher'-ly tone. She felt everything had softened back. Their moods has eased into gratefulness. The adrenaline settling in full force. As her nose and hair thawed, so did her fear. They were safe and were going to be okay.

"I didn't run onto the lake like a lunatic." she gave a side smirk at Piérre. "I fell," embarrassment tinted her cheeks.

His tone turned much softer and something caught Katrina's scattered attention. The sincerity and worry on his face made Katrina feel something. It seemed just surprising that someone cared. Katrina looked back at him, trying to fully discern that emotion in his voice.

Before she could figure anything out fully, he was standing up. With a deep breath she agreed, "Ready" She was much less shaky now and able to walk much steadier.

He leapt ahead and Katrina found herself calming and a bounce somewhat sneaking into her stride. He began singing a song that she recognized. Without realizing it, the 12-year-old joined in. Her voice was surprisingly graceful, it was the first time in years that she had actually felt safe enough to put herself out there.

Piérre had saved her life. That was something that she would have to always be in his debt for.

She paused in the song and just listened to him sing. "Thank you," she whispered under her breath.

Katrina exits thread