Yeah. I know. Another story... It was in my head for a while, and I just started writing it down. I also kinda lost inspiration for Burning in the Night, but I have it plotted out. Not sure when the next chapter will be posted, though. As for this story- I already wrote the next chapter, but I won't post it until I've finished the third one. I've also started working on three other stories, one of which is probably going to be a oneshot :)

Enjoy!

"How much farther is it, Thatch?!" Marco shouted through the blizzard. His brother turned to look back at him.

"Not much farther now!" They slowly continued making their way higher and higher up the mountain. They had been walking for a good two hours already.

"That's what you said an hour ago! What's so important that we have to come all the way up here in this weather, anyway?!" They both trudged onward through the snowstorm, trying to hide their faces from the pelting snow. The wind was so strong, it threatened to knock them over, and every single step had to be carefully planned so neither of the men slipped on the traitorous ice.

"Only the best snowberries ever! Come on, Marco! You know the snowberries are only ripe during snowstorms! I want to at least taste one before I die!" Marco looked around them.

"Seeing this blizzard, it's very probable that you will! And you're gonna take me to the grave along with you! I don't see any plantation around, though! Are you sure that we're going the right way?!"

"Hell yeah, I am! We were supposed to head north, and the compass shows we're going north! I have a map, and by the looks of it, we're getting closer with each and every step!" Thatch said, full of confidence.

"Marco, how can you not trust in my ability to get us there safely?!" Marco rolled his eyes. He sped up to catch up to his brother, who was already quite a ways ahead of him.

"Thatch, this is a bad idea! Why don't we just go back to the village?! We can come back and satisfy your craving for frostberries some other time, when the blizzard isn't this strong!" Thatch bit his lip. The wind had been getting stronger for some time now, and the snow pelting their faces had suddenly become more plentiful. He was, in fact, more than a little worried about his and Marco's safety, but his stubbornness and determination kept him from going back home empty-handed.

"Nonsense, Marco! Look, see those bushes over there?!" Thatch pointed to a speck of red in the distance. "Those are frostberry bushes! We can't stop now, I promised Haruta I'd make her an frostberry milkshake when we get back. Wouldn't want to disappoint the kid, would you?!" He shouted over the wind. Marco didn't answer. When Thatch turned to look at him, he noticed his brother looking at something far off in the distance. He frowned.

"Is that-?" He started, but Marco grabbed his arm and began pulling him to a rock that protruded slightly from the steep mountain as fast as he could.

"It's an avalanche!" Thatch looked up once again, only to see the wave of snow coming down on the both of them. All of a sudden, he felt someone push him as hard as he could under the rock. Thatch landed hard on the ice, and looked back to his brother. Marco had a relieved look on his face, and Thatch couldn't fathom why.

"Marco, what are you doing?! Get ove-" He cut himself off the moment he saw the snow crash into his brother, dragging him along with it towards the foot of the mountain. His eyes widened in horror.

"Marco!" He shouted desperately, before a curtain of snow came over the rock and blocked the outside world from his view.

Thatch didn't know how long he sat there. With each passing moment, he was more and more sure that Marco couldn't have survived such a fall. He could have hit his head on a rock. He could be lying somewhere underneath a giant pile of snow, losing oxygen by the minute. He could be freezing as Thatch thought about it.

His big brother had saved him. Thatch grit his teeth, trying to keep the tears from falling. It was his fault Marco was most likely dead somewhere. It was his. Damn. Fault! He was the one who wanted to go climbing a mountain during a snowstorm. Now that he thought about it, it was a miracle they had even managed to make it this far.

His brother had used the small amount of time he had left to get him to safety. It was only thanks to him Thatch was alive. But for how long? He kept staring at the waterfall of snow cascading over the rock.

The moment the avalanche had passed Thatch was out from under the rock and into the blizzard once again. He made his way down the mountain as fast as he could without killing himself. He shouted Marco's name until his voice was hoarse and his throat hurt like hell. The moment his eyes fell on the village he lived in, he broke into a run and made his way straight to the local self-proclaimed law enforcers.

Thatch practically flew into the building, and ran straight to the Chief's office.

"Oyaji, you've got to help me! There was an avalancheandithitMarcoandIlookedforhimbutIcan'tfindhimandohmyGodwhatdoIdoit'sallmyfault!" Thatch spoke, trying to get everything out at once, but seeing the confused and slightly bewildered look on his father's face he forced himself to slow down.

"There was an avalanche," he started, "It hit Marco. I looked for him, but I couldn't find him! What if he's dead?! It's all my fault! What should I do?!" The big man with a giant mustache whom he'd called Oyaji stood up the moment he heard that one of his sons might quite possibly be dead. He patted Thatch on the head and rushed to the main part of the building, where the other men currently were. He cleared his throat and raised his voice.

"My sons, there's been a tragedy. One of your brothers is in trouble." He nudged Thatch, who had walked with him to this room. The redhead started explaining what had happened as fast as he could, knowing that they were short on time.

"I want you two-" Oyaji, or Whitebeard, as he was called by some, pointed to two men on his left, "to go and find some villagers willing to help us find Marco. We have to make good use of whatever time we have. The rest of you, get your gear. We're going up the mountain to look for Marco. I want to make good use of the daylight. When it starts to get dark, I want every single one of you back in the village. Nobody else is going to get hurt." Whitebeard turned to face Thatch. "Thatch, go and get some rest. You look like you've been fed to a paper shredder. Twice."

Indeed, Thatch's teeth were chattering. He was all wet, as the snow that had been covering his clothes had melted the moment he had stepped into the heated building, and his hair was disheveled.

"If you don't find Marco today, than we'll look for him again tomorrow!"

All around, people hung their heads.

Everyone knew that the chances of finding Marco alive were slim.

Very slim.