***Author's Note: I'm so sorry about the long wait for this chapter. Part of the blame is that I didn't have this story finished before I posted it; the rest of the blame goes to this: I signed a publishing deal! My first YA Science Fiction Fantasy novel, The Fourth Piece, comes out this Fall. Check out my Author Profile for more information. You can visit my twitter: E_Ardell (at E_Ardell), my website: dot com, my tumblr, goodreads (Type in: The Fourth Piece or E. Ardell), or just find my links on my profile page. I'm so very excited. I also hope you guys are still hanging with me for the rest of this story. Thank you for all of the reviews and support! It made me get on finishing this chapter! Hope you like it!***

Chapter 3: Inhuman

Pietro Maximoff

The hardest bodies to find are the kids.

I don't know why I thought I'd be saving people today. I should have known there was no way we'd be bringing anyone down from this mountain alive. We're recovering the dead. It's noble, I guess. Loved ones can find peace knowing you're not out there somewhere and maybe they could be helping you. It's closure.

I sit on the back of Clint's snow mobile, hands on my knees, swallowing hard and trying not to think of the little girl with blue-white skin who'd probably suffocated before she'd frozen. Her family is just as dead as she is, so closure for them doesn't matter.

I shut my eyes, heart thudding in my chest, as I hear the phantom shriek of the rocket, the sound of the world crashing down around my ears, and screaming as my parents fall. Their bodies had been mangled beyond recognition. I couldn't tell Mama from the woman who'd lived down the hall.

I roll down my ski mask and scrub my cheeks with icy gloves as flashes of Alina's sweet, blue-white face appear with so many others—all later covered by white sheets. Like snow.

I swallow again. My heart pumps so fast my ribcage vibrates. My vision blurs and doubles. I fumble through my utility belt and pull out a protein bar. I'm almost out of food. I'd burned through it quicker than I'd thought, and I'd kill for the Snickers Clint was going on about. Fortunately, the mission's almost over. The search area perimeters that the earlier rescue squads hadn't gotten to are mapped out for us. With Thor flying ahead to survey the land and check for stability, me running out to start the excavation process and then Clint following on the snow mobile, we knocked out the map in hours instead of days. Captain Long and the regular rescue squads join us to pack up what we've found—the corpses—and murmur things as they look at us with round eyes.

I don't speak the language, don't know what they're saying, but a couple of people have offered me drinks and food and bowed afterwards. It could be a cultural act of politeness. I've seen movies where certain cultures bow all the time but, for some reason, I don't think they're just being polite. It's weird. McDonald's and posing for pictures is one thing, but these people? Thor shrugs it off, all smiles and laughter. Clint—well, no one bows for Clint.

And it kind of pisses me off. Clint's probably doing more work than Thor and me, but he's not doing it using super-powered skills. Guess that makes him boring. But I don't think he's boring. I can't help but marvel at how he keeps his voice so calm and how his hands don't shake when he pulls sheets over bodies. He even takes the time to pat my back or squeeze my shoulders, because he doesn't have to say anything for me to know that he gets it.

"Hey."

I jump off the seat of the snow mobile and spin around to see Clint, his head slightly cocked to one side as he stares at me. He holds an extra protein bar out to me.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah-yeah-you-just-surprised-me." I bite my tongue. That sounded fast even to me. I take a deep breath, willing my heart to stop buzzing. "You surprised me."

"You're jumpy," Clint says.

I take the bar from him and tear into it as my stomach growls. I need real food. These snacks are teasing me. "One more section, right?"

Clint nods. "Thor should be back any minute."

"Right-yeah-sure." I plop back down on the snow mobile and sip water from my canteen. It's freezing and hits my stomach like blocks of ice. "I'm ready to go." Home. I watch my breath come out in small white puffs of vapor. Wonder if I can make shapes like Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings. God, that was a long movie. It had taken a week to watch, because I had to keep turning it off to do other things.

"I'm sorry this had to be your first mission," Clint says, sitting down next to me. "I know you had your heart set on saving people today. I should have warned you before we got out here, but I just thought—"

"That I'd be smart enough to figure it out?" I shrug. "I figured it out as soon as we got to the first site. I should have known right away, but…" I shrug again.

"I've been on more terrible missions than I can keep track of," Clint says. "Some of them really do end up just being clean-up. We weren't called in, in time, and it's not our fault. Like here…" Clint gestures around. "The local government didn't want us in their territory. I still think they don't want us here. But if they'd been more open-minded when it happened, we could have been here last night, and maybe we could have saved someone."

I nod. I know he's trying to make me feel better, but I don't. My stomach growls again, and a dull, gnawing pain starts deep in my gut. I dig around for another bar, and Clint shoves one under my nose.

"You're really going through these things, brat. Maybe you need to head back to where there're more supplies."

I can't see Clint's facial expression through his ski mask, but I bet he's frowning at me. He frowns at me a lot. He says it's because I'm annoying, but he worries. Like Wanda, I don't think he'll ever really get over Sokovia. It's horrible, but I can't force myself to feel that awful about him not being able to get over it. His guilt and gratitude made him take Wanda and me under his wing and give us a second home. If it hadn't happened, if he'd somehow been in a different place and I hadn't needed to help out, where would we be? I think Wanda and I would still be Avengers, but not in this way.

I don't know that the whole team would have been so ready to adopt us. We'd been the bad guys. We had made it possible for Ultron to come into being. And then I died for Clint. Nobody could turn us out or leave us to sink or swim after that. And I'm glad.

Thwump. Thwump. Thwump. I look up at the sound of Thor's hammer slicing through the air. He hovers then lands a few feet away, his boots heavy in the snow and his face set in a scowl. He marches toward us.

"The way is clear and the ground is safe to tread upon, though I sense that more innocents will be buried beneath it." He shakes his head. "Why were we not called sooner? There is no honor in this."

Clint sighs. "I just went over this with the kid. The people here don't like outsiders on their sacred mountain. Their own people haven't climbed this thing to its peak."

"Or so they say," I muse. "I kind of thought somebody was taking tribute up the mountain for their gods."

"Nothing in the report said that. They just thought we should do it now that the gods are angry and rained snow on them and all that voodoo stuff." Clint waves a hand.

"I see no gods, or evidence of any gods ever having been here." Thor sounds downright grumpy. I would offer him a Snickers if I had one.

"Well, cheer up Big Guy. We've got one more area to search and then we're out of here to wait for the rest of the team," Clint says, clapping his gloves together.

"Yes." Thor nods, then a big grin lights his face. "And then we shall make up for this horrible first mission by taking Pietro out drinking! I shall buy you some of the finest ale and share with you the—"

"He's not legal drinking age," Clint interrupts and Thor and I stare at him.

"What does that mean? Legal drinking age?" Thor says the words like they're in an unknown language.

I bite back a laugh and roll my eyes over to Clint who's got that long-suffering look on his face.

"It means," I say, with a wicked smile, "that America has set an age barrier on drinking. I must be 21 to lawfully do so."

"Then we shall not drink in America!" Thor booms, laughing again, his good humor returned.

"He shall not drink anywhere," Clint grouses, half-glaring at Thor. "I'm not dealing with a drunk speed demon."

"Oh come on, Clint. I don't stay drunk for long," I tease, and it's true. My metabolism burns off liquor and other drugs quickly.

Clint turns his glare on me. "No."

"I will take care of him, Clint," Thor says. "Do you not trust me to look after a teammate?" Thor throws a massive arm around me, the man-hug almost bone crushing.

I gasp and wheeze. "Y-yeah. Don't you trust him?" I huff.

"When we get down, we'll call Laura and ask her what she thinks about this," Clint says, and all the fun slurps right out of the equation.

Way to go, Clint.

Thor gives Clint an almost heartbroken look. "Clint Barton, when did you become so—"

"Old?" I offer.

"Hm." Thor nods his approval.

"Thor," Clint says, voice calm and level. "My wife decided to adopt two teenagers. That makes them my responsibility when she's not around. If one were to get drunk and make the news, she would punish me."

"And you are afraid of your wife?" Thor asks.

"Yes!"

I chuckle, but choke it back in as Clint stares me down.

"Don't act like you're not scared of her too," Clint challenges.

I roll my ski mask back up over my mouth and nose. "I'm her Apple Dumpling. I can do no wrong. It'll always be your fault, Dad."

Clint growls like a bear and I duck the snowball he lobs at my head.

I love pissing Clint off. It's so funny.

Thor laughs too, and I have a harder time dodging the monster-sized snowball he hurls at me. I almost trip over my snow boots. Clumsy, heavy things. They make running harder. I right myself and come back to Thor and Clint.

"All right, so let's finish this job," Clint says. "You ready, brat?"

I nod on the outside, but inside: No, I'm not ready to find more bodies.

"Okay. I'm right behind you," Clint says, straddling the seat of the snow mobile and gripping the handle bars.

I prepare myself to run, staring at the white terrain and willing the world to move faster. My body revs up like an engine about to fire. My heart thrums, my breathing picks up, and then everything levels out into a steady rhythm. I jog at first, looking over my shoulder to see Clint frozen in time. I look up to see Thor mid-leap, stuck in the sky. It's like a photograph.

Across the snow I glide, digging a trail as I move. It's the only evidence left behind for Clint and Thor to know that I'm still here, because I'm sure neither one of them can see me now. The ski mask does little to keep the cold wind from tearing at my face. Maybe I need a helmet. I don't know, but I can deal with it. The run won't take long.

I visualize the map I'd been shown, winding around corners and leaping over fallen branches, heading to the last area… and stop. Standing still, the world catches up to me. My breathing is loud, almost louder than the soft sounds of human panting. I hold my breath to be sure the extra noise isn't coming from me.

No, not me. Someone else gasps nearby, breath hitching every few seconds, maybe about to cry.

Thor said he hadn't seen anybody out this way.

A thrill of excitement ripples through me. A survivor. God, how I want to save someone. The need to do it almost hurts. I don't dare speed up. I don't want to blow by the person, and I don't want to scare them by seeming to appear out of nowhere. Should I call out?

"Hello?" I chance. "Are you hurt?"

The panting quiets, muffling like someone pressing a hand over their mouth.

"I'm here to help!" And whoever it is probably doesn't speak English. In my head, I practice the phrase the rescue squad had taught us and try it out. The words sound stupid to me. I know I'm not pronouncing them correctly. And whoever it is out there doesn't respond.

Okay. I trek forward, listening for sounds of life. The muffled panting turns to soft sobbing. Over the years, I've become an expert in analyzing different kinds of crying. Crying from pain is sharp, staccato; crying from sadness can be low and quiet. Crying from fear…. That's a noise I'm very well acquainted with.

Whoever's crying is afraid, and young, maybe a woman or a girl. I don't call out again, keeping my steps light as I round a corner. A slight figure dressed in white huddles in the snow, backside to a mountain wall. The hands and feet are bare and small; the hair is long and strawberry gold. The head raises and the beautiful, heart-shaped face of a teenage girl—doubt she's older than me—stares back.

I hold up both hands to show I'm unarmed. "Hello," I say, not coming closer.

She continues to stare, then gets to her feet.

Good God. She's wearing a dress that looks like it's made of cotton. No shoes, no hat, no gloves, no sleeves. How in the hell had she gotten out here like this, and why isn't she freezing to death?

"I…" I take a step closer and she presses herself against the snowy wall like she thinks I'm going to hurt her. "I can give you my jacket. Are you cold?" Of course she's cold! I struggle to unbutton my coat. The thick gloves make my fingers stupid. Once I get the coat off, I toss it on the ground toward her and step back, hands up again.

The girl looks from me to the coat in the snow. I shiver a little. I've got on a thermal sweater and long-johns, but I really miss my coat. I roll the ski mask down until it bunches around my neck and offer her a friendly smile. At least I hope it's friendly. My face is still a little numb from the cold run earlier. Maybe my lips aren't moving right yet.

After a minute, the girl inches toward my coat. I step back again, giving her space. She pokes at it a few times before wrapping it around herself. She sniffs the fabric and then looks at me. I don't move. It's like getting an animal to trust you. Let them come to you.

One step. Two steps. Soon, she's in front of me. Her small, fine-boned hand reaches out and she rubs her knuckles against my cheek. Her hand is warm. I blink, staring into her face. Her skin is flushed with dewy color and her green eyes are vibrant.

She's not cold.

She shrugs my coat off her body and drapes it over my shoulders in front. Then she smiles, her face bright, despite the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"I… uh… thanks." I put my coat back on and struggle to button it as she watches. "Where did you come from?" Who are you? Or maybe the question should be 'what are you', because no normal woman could be walking around barefoot on a snow covered mountain after an avalanche in a summer dress. Maybe the natives aren't so crazy for thinking there are gods on the mountaintops after all.

She touches my chest, shadows darkening her eyes. She looks behind her and pushes me backward.

"Is… something after you?" I look behind her too. Nothing.

"I can take you with me," I say. "Here. Let me…" I can't carry her and move fast. The wind would kill her in that outfit. But I guess I could cover her up. "Ah… I'm going to call my friends, okay?"

She watches me for a moment, then her expression changes from curious to terrified. She grabs my shoulders just as the snow beneath us starts quaking. Wind roars in my ears and a white tornado of snow plumes and whirls around us, thick and blinding. I shut my eyes and grip her shoulders. I need to get us….

The ground quakes again and I stumble, falling and bringing her down with me.

A man's voice shouts something. I don't know if I just can't understand his language or if the howling, freight train cacophony of the wind distorts his words.

I crawl over the girl, trying to shield her with my body. What now? Can I get it together enough to run? Can I even get up? The wind presses down on me like a ten ton weight. The girl tugs on my arms, her eyes wild. Her lips move and I shake my head. I can't hear.

Soft, warm lips touch my ear. "The Seeker." Her voice is high and pretty, her English clear and without accent—like Natasha's, trained to be generic and unremarkable. "We have to get away."

The wind pressing me down eases up and the girl gets to her feet, pulling me up. Wait a minute. Who's saving who here? She raises one hand and the snow torrent parts, whipping her hair around her face and mine. I squeeze my eyes shut, the brightness hurts, and let Mystery Girl tow me forward as I get my bearings.

The ground ripples and the heavy snow falls around my ears, knocking me over again. The girl falls on top of me and rolls off, gasping. I rub snow off my goggles and stare at the massive form of a man in a red and black snowsuit. His eyes are the kind of black that reflect light, giving them a madman's gleam.

"Are we through playing?" the man rumbles. He holds out a black gloved hand to the girl, completely ignoring me.

"What have you done to the others?" the girl demands.

Red Snowsuit grins almost pleasantly. "Why don't you come with me and find out?"

Snow swirls around the girl's feet as she raises her arms and glares at the man. "I'll bury you again."

"The only thing you succeeded in that last time was trapping your dear sister under multiple kilometers of snow. But don't worry. I was able to rescue her before she suffocated." The man's words don't sound comforting.

I don't know if I should move closer to the girl, not with that snowstorm she's brewing. I shake my head—she's enhanced, and this guy probably is too. My communicator crackles in my ear and I jump. I'd forgotten about it. I can't believe it's getting a signal in all this.

"Pietro, are you all right?" Thor.

"Where are you?" Clint.

I blink at the concern in their voices and want to palm my forehead. I never made it to my final destination, and now there's a blizzard. "I'm all right," I breathe into my com, hoping they can hear me. The wind and snow really start to pick up as the girl steps closer to Red Snowsuit.

"Where are you?" Clint growls. "I can barely hear you."

"I think I need back up." The com crackles and I hear broken transmissions from Clint and Thor. Shit. I glance at my utility belt. There's a tracking device in there. If it's still working, the team can find me.

"This is your last chance to peacefully come with me," Red Snowsuit says. He extracts a long gun from a holster on a black belt at his waist.

A wall of snow flies at Red Snowsuit and the man fires his big gun. The blast is like red lightning. It devours the snow, but stops dead as more volleys of snow follow the first in rapid succession. I stare at the girl. She's starting to sweat, her features strained. She can't keep doing this. I steady myself and concentrate, watching the world slow as I speed up, rushing at Red Snowsuit for all I'm worth. I grab him around the waist in a tackle and bring him down. His big gun topples beside us.

The man yelps as I pin him to the ground. I look over my shoulder to see the girl on her knees, panting.

Okay. One bad guy down.

"Fool," Red Snowsuit says in a low voice. "You should have just come with me." His tone is regretful. My heart thuds in my chest as the shriek of a bomb comes from overheard and something crashes to the ground harder than Thor. The mountain quakes and a man wearing gray goggles and a silver, sleeveless jumpsuit rises from a crouch.

Another person dressed for Springtime. I'm starting to feel like a real pansy for needing layers to stay warm. Wonder if Red Snowsuit's feeling a little emasculated too. He struggles beneath me, strong as an ox. He throws me off after a beat, and I push myself up into a runner's starting position, ready to charge him again. He's not getting away

The girl screams and I jerk my head in her direction to see her throwing plumes of flames at the new man in silver.

What the hell is she?

Oh shit!

I jump out of the way as red lightning hurtles at my face. Seems Red Snowsuit's found his gun. I need to focus on him. The girl can probably handle—the sharp sounds of choking. I chance another look at the other fight to see the girl on the ground, clutching her throat, eyes large, face turning blue as Silver Suit closes in on her.

Of course he's got weird powers too.

I charge toward Silver Suit instead, tackling him the same way I'd done Red Snowsuit. Silver Suit cries out as we tumble to the ground. The girl's desperate gasps stop. More red lightning flashes over our heads as I struggle with Silver Suit… and choke as air literally gets snatched from my lungs. I can't even wheeze. Oh God.

I hit the snow, writhing at the pain in my chest from no air. It's like drowning. I'm suffocating, but how? Oh. God. I. Can't. Black spots scatter across my vision. A man yells and intense heat blows over my skin as a fireball blazes by.

Air gushes back into my lungs. I gasp and cough, sucking it in.

My ears ring and my pulse throbs.

I sit up, holding my head and staring at the chaos. The girl stands behind me, growing another fireball between her palms. Silver Suit staggers to his feet, torrents of swirling snow cycloning his biceps. Red Snowsuit's aiming his gun at the girl.

This is worse than Ultron. At least then I had known what was going on, and who and what I was fighting. I want to scream "Stop!" and have the world freeze so I can take it all in and make sense of things.

I blink.

I can make it stop.

I focus, vertigo causing me to sway. My head pounds. I shut my eyes and feel the silence settle over my body. I open my eyes, staring at the frozen ice in the air, studying the girl with her hands outstretched, flames frozen on her fingertips. Red Snowsuit's mouth is open, revealing two rows of yellowing teeth. His brow beetles as he glares at the girl. Red lightning halts mid-crackle as it gathers around the mouth of the barrel of his gun.

I take his weapon. At this speed, I'm inhumanly strong. I could kill someone with an ill-placed jab of my finger. I have to be careful not to bump into anyone or step on any feet.

I remember the shooter at the Walmart Clint had taken me to months ago. I found out a week later that I'd broken his collarbone when I'd slammed into him. And his rifle. I still don't understand what had happened to that gun. I'd held it tight, my shakes vibrating with pent in energy, and then the gun was gone. Maybe I'd rattled it into pieces so small no one could see them. Maybe I'd banished it to a faster world that even I can't get to.

I stare at the gun I currently hold and try to do it again. I focus on my hands and will them to move, faster—faster—faster. My skin tingles. My fingers and palms go numb as they become blurs even to me—and this time I feel it. I feel the matter in my hands breaking down, changing, becoming insubstantial… until it's gone.

I laugh, staggering away from Red Snowsuit, and head towards the girl and Silver Suit.

Oh my God. Wait until I show Wanda and Clint.

Pain stabs me behind the eyes and something trickles from one nostril.

Oh no. I wipe at it, watching the red drip into the slushy snow, making it look like a cherry Icee—one of my new favorite things. Well, ex-favorite thing, since I'll always think of blood when I see one now. The stream keeps flowing. I throw back the hood of my jacket and roll my ski mask over my head, using it to plug my nose. I hold the fabric, tilting my head down. Willing the bleeding to stop.

I've got to slow down.

I push for it—slow down—and feel nothing. Nothing's happening.

No. No. Not now. Not here. Not on my first mission.

I stare at my blood. Dizziness washing over me. A few steps away from reaching the girl and Silver Suit, I sink to my knees in cherry-stained ice. I don't feel the cold. I only hear the sound of my own panic as the bleeding doesn't slow.

Am I going to die again?

Can I really die from a nosebleed? That's stupid. Of course not. But the world grows dark: black and white.

I rock back and forth, waiting, bleeding… and then there's sound, faint, but growing louder. Cold starts to eat its way through my suit. The wind bites my exposed ears. Color: white, reddish blond and green. The girl's kneeling in front of me, her slender hands over mind as she helps me hold the blood soaked ski mask to my face.

The mask turns icy and I blink down at it to see frost covering its surface.

"It will slow the bleeding," the girl says. She runs a hand through my hair, face taut with worry—over me?

What happened to Silver Suit? I can't turn my head to look for him.

"Your powers are unstable," the girl says slowly, "like mine." She bites her lip. "But you are not a cousin. You cannot enter the Great Refuge."

A cousin? I stare at her, drinking in her pretty face, and am very glad I'm not a cousin. But what's a Great Refuge? My head swims and I sway.

A bellow behind us—sounds like Red Snowsuit. Probably missing his gun.

But where the hell's Silver Suit? I don't hear….

Thwump. Thwump—from overhead. I squint into the sky. Relief fills me at the sight of Mjolnir.

Crash—and I was wrong earlier. Silver Suit hadn't landed harder than Thor.

"Argh!" Silver Suit shriek is devoured by Thor's battle cry.

I hear the motor of a small oncoming vehicle over the fighting.

"Stay away!" the girl shouts. Heat pulses from her body and I hear flames erupt into the air.

"Pietro!" Clint.

I frown. He sounds pissed. I don't know what I look like with my head against the girl's shoulder, but from far away maybe it looks like I'm making out with a strange woman. If I could only be so lucky.

"Stay away!" the girl cries again and Clint yelps.

"Mmm…no. He's my friend," I murmur. My mouth doesn't want to move. My tongue is thick. I lick my lips clumsily, grimacing at the salty taste of blood.

"Let him go, lady!" Clint barks.

Clint has that especially cocky tone to his voice that says he has his bow out. I almost snort at how useless his dumb bow would be against this girl. She'd roast it, freeze it, or blow it away. The image of Clint's incredulous face as his weapon gets fried is hilarious… and heart-warming. If he's training his bow on this girl, it's because he's trying to protect me. Giddiness washes over me.

"Who are you? Who are those guys?" Clint demands. His voice is close.

The girl murmurs something. Clint growls.

Off in the distance, a clamor of grunts, strains, hissing wind and Thor's booming laughter tells me the battle's still going.

Hands grab my shoulders, pulling me back. I look up to see Clint's game face.

"Holy shit, brat." He stares at my bloody hands and clothes, then at the deep red stain in the snow. Something shines in his eyes; something I'd miss if I didn't know him better: fear.

Thor roars and wind howls. The mountain tremors under our feet.

Clint's mouth moves, but I can't hear him. Sound bleeds out of the world again, but everything still moves a normal pace. I just can't make sense of anything. The colors around me are too bright. My eyes hurt, my head pounds, and my teeth chatter; it's too cold. Hands grip me again, tugging me up. My legs are useless. I wobble and fall to my knees, more blood spattering the snow.

Small hands touch my face. The girl's bright green eyes swim in my vision.

"I think…" I choke; a thick warm clump of matter clogs my throat. I cough and gag as a blood clot the size of an Oreo hits the ground.

Sound flickers in and out. The girl's voice shrills. She says something else about a refuge and a locked jaw. Clint says something about getting out of here.

Rough hands. Arms under my shoulders and kneecaps. I no longer feel the icy press of snow beneath me. Wind chaps my face as one cheek rests against thick fabric. "…try to hold onto my neck, brat…" Clint's voice. "…pain in the ass…"

/Pi…tro?/

Wanda's thought crackles in my head.

I should answer her. She'll freak out if I don't. But….

Apathy sets in. I really thought I'd be scared. But I guess after you've died once, the second time around isn't really as bad. I just feel tired. And it's not fair. I didn't get to really do anything. Last time I died, I was a hero. This time, I'm the guy who went out before the big fight started.

"Pietro!" Clint yells. "Don't...sleep!"

The sky trembles. Or is Clint trembling? Is he carrying me? I hear him gasp. Feel myself falling. I hit the snow face first. Arms wrap around my waist. A deep rumble from above, like the Earth's breaking apart. A cold, heavy block of wetness strikes my ear.

"…avalanche…" Clint.

Another rumble. Arms pulling me up again. I topple sideways, landing on top of a body—Clint. "…getting you out of here. Just hang on… Shit!"

Clint shifts, letting my body roll onto the ground. He crawls over me, becoming a human shield as snow boulders rain down on us. Clint's arms are tight around me. He might be talking. I can't tell. Can't hear. Can't really see anymore.

But I want to smile. To tell him 'thank you,' because I don't know if I ever really have. I want him to know that I appreciate how good he was to me, to Wanda.

Wanda.

Through the avalanche, I hear screaming—the girl. She's above us, her voice growing fainter.

I.

Can't.

Th….

My body tingles, suddenly exposed to open air.

Rough coughing and a great sucking gasp—Clint.

"Hold on." The girl's soft whisper near in ear.

Heavy panting. It almost… it almost sounds like a dog.

Clint curses. I force my eyes open to glimpse splashes of color: white snow, red hair, enormous black eyes, brown fur.

Fur?

Air vanishes.

Scenery washes away; the colors blending until everything's white.

***Author's Note: So, what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Well, anyway you liked it, please review. Oh, and if you're interested, don't forgot to check out my Author Profile page to learn more about my novel coming out this Fall! Thanks!***