Immediately after this match, but before being taken to hospital.

It was dark inside Maisie's head. In fact, it was so dark that if you asked her about it later, she couldn't remember anything. She couldn't remember the way she'd danced between dresses or the way curled a ribbon in her hand until it opened up like a filmstrip onto the streets of Moscow flanked with cotton candy clouds on either side of the street lamps. Ducks, geese and other waterfowl passed a small, bright hockey puck between them across cobblestones that matched the tiles on St Basil's. A young boy in Koldovstoretz robes played Rachmaninoff with each pass, each growing faster and faster like a tea cup on wheels...until it struck flat in the center of her face.

That had been the last thing she remembered before she stirred on the ice: the high stick in the face. But even that seemed to blur as she felt the cold tingling against her skin and her brown eyes seemed to blink slowly, weighted down by the concussion she didn't know she had. And blink by blink, the darkness descended into white light, and that light into color. There were swirls and shapes that twinkled like rhinestones on a hot pink ball gown. And somewhere off to the side, a figure seemed, too, lost in the darkness.

But above, the swirls congealed like cakey store-bought foundation until...was that...no, they couldn't all be here. Shapes were moving and had been, making sounds sometimes too like geese on winter's morning. Surely, even the Gemmell curse could not bring them all here to a place like this...could it?

Blinking more rapidly now with skin still flush from the impact, she looked up and said, "Addie, Freddie...are we all dead?"

For @Frederick Buckley, @Robin Marie, and @Adeline Spinks, with love.

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| Location: Lake Bear (frozen), Russian Federation | Date: 17/02/26 | Word count: 340 |
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Frederick's final attempt to help his team proved futile. He tried to grab hold of one of his opponents, hoping to slow her down and keep her from moving freely, but not only did he fail, he was also spotted by the referee, who sent him straight to the penalty box. Sliding across the ice toward the edge of the rink, the boy stole a few glances over his shoulder, determined to keep watching how the match unfolded. Maisie and Robin had both been knocked down, leaving only Adeline bravely facing a team that was, admittedly, far stronger than theirs.

He had barely reached the corner, where, in his opinion, he had no business being, since he was convinced he hadn't committed a foul against that particular opponent, when the whistle blew, signaling the end of the match. They had lost, but that was no longer what concerned him. Pushing off quickly, one skate gliding after the other across the frozen lake, its surface crisscrossed with the marks left by the players throughout the game, Buckley hurried toward Maisie. How had they just left her lying there? She should have been on her way to the infirmary ages ago, he thought, picking up speed as he made for his fallen Keeper.

As he reached the goal area, Frederick only then realized he was still carrying his hockey stick. Standing over Maisie, he rested its end on the ice and held it with both hands, the shaft centered in front of him. Before he had the chance to say or do anything, Gemmel opened her eyes and asked, “Addie, Freddie... are we all dead?” A short laugh escaped Fred before settling into a warm smile. “Nope. We’re still alive,” he replied, “but we’re about to freeze to death in this icy wasteland if we don’t get out of here soon.” Still using the stick for support, Frederick released his right hand and reached it out toward Maisie, leaning forward slightly as he offered to help his teammate back to her feet.

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| Interacting with: @Maisie Gemmell |