Wooow, CL Solo Write St. is tough, haha. Though I've never broken a bone, so I don't know exactly how I would react.

I know I haven't been posting, but I've been with you since the beginning, and it's looking great, CL!

Cber Name: CurlyGirl

Appearance as human: Brownish Goldish curly hair Usally in ponytail. Freckles dance a cross her nose. Eye color is brown with some gold specks in it. Normal skin color

Personality: Athletic, Funny, Likes to prank people, sometimes she is really dark. Totally not senceative

Animal: A tiger.

Heightend Abilities: Can I have the force, or is that to OP? If so, can I have Fire powers?

Other: Daughter of an athlete. 

Part 8

~~

“You know,” Nebula said, sitting next to Kestrel in the cave. “I remember this one winter, when I was little, where it didn’t snow at all. Seriously! It was just dry and frosty, all day, every day. My biggest wish that winter was for a snowstorm, the largest and whitest one imaginable.” Sighing, she looked out into the howling storm, nothing but a swirl of pale flakes. “I guess I got my wish. Too late, though.” Kestrel chuckled, though she did pull her sweater closer to her body, shivering. “How’s Little Reader doing?” Kestrel asked, her voice switching to concern. Ever since they had gotten here, the small girl had seemed to feel like chill much deeper than anyone else, and right now she was curled against the wall as far away from the entrance as possible, her eyes half-closed and glazed. Claaws was sitting next to her, worry shining in her eyes.

“She’s…” Nebula started, her voice hesitant. “I… she’s not well. And St’s no better, really. I mean, she really hit hard. A fall from that high? Jeez, she’s lucky she’s still alive. What a bleak situation.”

“What my biggest wish right now would be is getting to go back to that beach,” Kestrel moaned, shifting awkwardly on the cold stone. “Speaking of that, though, how is it even possible for a beach to be right next to a tundra?”

“How is it possible for people to turn into animals?” Nebula replied, fingering with the charm around her neck. Then she winced as her stomach snarled, growling with emptiness. “How is it possible for someone to be so hungry?” she muttered, rubbing her torso.

“Yeah, I seriously haven’t eaten for days. That’s… not healthy for a person,” Kestrel said, flopping down on her back and twitching when she felt the stone grind on her skin. “Oww…”

“It has to get better. It just has to,” Nebula insisted, her voice firm, refusing to let doubt taint her thoughts.

“I gueeeeess,” Kestrel replied. “I just wish it would happen sooner—“ The second the words left her mouth, there was a loud thump from somewhere to Nebula’s left. She jerked up, twisting to see what it is. As if from nowhere, a large brown bag had appeared, stuffed full of something.

“What’s that?” Eria asked, her head popping up.

“I dunno,” Nebula said, wary of it. Slowly, keep one hand clenched around her charm, she approached the bag, pulling the noose open. What she saw inside rendered her speechless with shock. “Oh—ooh my—oh—“

“Well, what is it?” Scylla said, snapping out of her misery to come over and investigate. Nebula felt her eyes getting hot, wanting to weep in relief.

“It’s food!” Ember said, her eyes widening. “Dried food—bread—wow, is that cheese?—oh my gooosh, all kinds of stuff!” Immediately hands dodged for the bag, grasping for something to fill their stomachs.

“Stop!” Scylla’s shout resonated above the rest of the clamor, which immediately died down. Staggering to her feet, she quickly walked over to the group, authority in her stride, though he eyes were still wracked with guilt. “Wait, before you all jump at this.” Grabbing off a few choices pieces, Scylla gathered it in her arms and carried it over to St and Little Reader, who were staring at the bag in interest, though neither could get up to see it. Nebula watched as Scylla said a few quiet words to them, handing out the food, then straightened up and returned to the group. “Alright, alright, now you can go at it,” she said, dusting her hands off. “Just don’t take too much—we’re going to need to save this for the future.” Much more slowly, food was passed around, people desperately tearing into it, moaning with pleasure.

After Nebula had devoured enough to make her feel satisfied (though not as much as she would have instinctively eaten, not with Scylla having one watchful eye on everyone), she sat back next to Kestrel, feeling warm inside. “That was lucky, to say the least,” she commented, rubbing her stomach as it purred in pleasure.

“I know, really. It was like it was triggered by my words or something—and we haven’t even stopped to consider where on earth that food came from.”

“Why would we need to know if it fills us up?” Nebula said, grinning. “That’s the path of least resistance, and the one I aim on taking.”

“But—it’s not the path of ‘most discovery about this entire working’!” Kestrel argued, gesticulating excitedly. “I want to know what’s happening, and why.” Nebula rolled her eyes, though she didn’t feel angry at her friend.

“Honestly, Kestrel, sometimes you think too much,” she said, picking up an unfinished piece of rye. “Sometimes it’s better for you to just lean back and relax, and not consider why…” she said, taking a bite out of the bread.

Crunch.

Vox licked their lips as they chewed, wiping the stray strawberry jam off their mouth, then bit into the toast again, polishing it off. Tossing the crust aside, they smiled as they listened to Nebula and Kestrel’s conversation.

“She’s right, don’t you know, Kestrel,” Vox murmured, though no one could hear them. “For now, I would think you’d better off if you didn’t know.” Standing up, they turned and walked towards the other, smaller, fire, talking to themselves all the way. “What would have happened if I hadn’t done that? I can’t have my main characters dying, now can I… though, speaking of which,” they said, poking the fire with a stick. “Looks like it’s simmering down a bit. Oh well, I couldn’t keep it up forever. It’ll end—and when it does? That’ll be… interesting to see, to say the least… but, anyways!” they exclaimed, waving their hand theatrically and spinning on their heel to march back to the main inferno. “I think it’s time for a new chapter, yes? But who… but who…” A sudden grin curved over their face, eyes lighting in delight. “Or, what about both? Oh, yes, that’s exactly it… both, and one following the other! Haha, you’re too clever—uh, Vox. Silly me, I suppose that’s my name now. Best get on with it, then.” Vox leaned over to the ground next to their log, and felt around in the dark for two charms. When they found them, they pulled them out and tossed them into the fire, watching with half-closed eyes as they sank into the flames.

Little Reader sneezed, though it was rasping and weak. Claaws stared at her, feeling helpless. Her friend looked chilled to the bone, hardly moving at all on the stone floor. A few other people were trying to start a fire, but didn’t seem to be having much luck. “I… I…” the words were straggling and awkward, as if Little Reader couldn’t stand to say anything else. Claaws jerked up, confused. Was it so cold for Little Reader that she was actually?— NO, Claaws thought, shoving the grim proposal away. There was a scrabbling of pebbles, and Claaws looked up to see Ember darting over to them, setting her hands on Little Reader’s skin and rubbing furiously.

“What… are you…” Claaws started.

“Rubbing her skin will create friction, and therefore heat,” Ember replied tersely, allowing one quick smile. “I know quite a bit about heat, with a name like mine. Now come on! We have to be quick.” Claaws joined in, pressing her hands against Little Reader’s arms.

“Nothing’s happening! Claaws cried, shivering at the feeling of Little Reader’s icy skin. “Argh…no, no…”

It was so sudden when it happened.

Little Reader’s body twitched for a second, and then she swiftly curled into a ball, with a flash of tawny brown, blue, and shimmering silver. Curled up on the ground, where just a second ago a freezing Little Reader had lain, was a small brown-and-white tabby cat, her long hair fluffed up against the cold. Claaws sat up sharply, surprised. “Wait, what? Little—is that you—“ The cat’s eyes flickered open and she sneezed, sitting up to be Little Reader again. Her eyes glanced down at the cat charm hanging around her neck, glinting in the dim light.

“You’re okay!” Ember yelped, seizing Little Reader in a hug. But even though Ember’s eyes were alight with joy, Little Reader just seemed a little dazed, beginning to shiver again.

“I think—“ Little Reader paused to let out a cough. “I think that I need to be a cat. It—I was so cold. It felt *cough* it felt like I was frozen solid, but all of a sudden the chill dissipated… I guess it was because I was covered in fur.” She looked at Claaws, who nodded un understanding. Little Reader sighed, looking suddenly dead with exhaustion, and slumped back to the ground as a cat, curling her tail over her nose. There was a pause as Little Reader’s body stilled, her flank only barely rising and falling as she sank into sleep.

Claaws sat back, internally relieved. “That was lucky,” she commented, absentmindedly rubbing her hands together.

“Maybe too lucky,” a voice suddenly came from near Claaws. She turned, scrabbling slightly on the ground, to see St Owl sitting there, shifting awkwardly and wincing around her cast-wrapped broken leg.

“Why?” Ember asked, her eyebrow raised. “Although I guess I can see what you mean…”

“And it was no coincidence either,” St Owl continued, her gaze hardening. “Think about it. Who’s been the one who gives us these powers? Vox. Who’s said, all along, that they’re the narrator, or telling this story?” As St Owl spoke, the members of the group slowly filtered over, gathering around her, waiting for the conclusion to her theory. “Vox. So who’s watching us right now?”

St Owl didn’t have to repeat the name for the effect to sink in. A heavy silence descended over the group as each of them processed the facts. And if it was done to prove a point, there was a sudden and sharp yelp, and they all turned to see a russet-red fox standing where Ember was just a moment before. Immediately a grin curved over her face--somehow ridiculously funny to see on a fox--and she jumped back up as a human, the fox charm around her neck swinging. “That was--this is perfect!”

Claaws looked at her, confused, though feeling a little put out. A tiny spark of jealousy stirred inside her, wishing that she could experience this too. In a few moments, it was swelled over, but it remained lying low, burning quietly. “Don’t you see?” Ember continued. “Like this--” she quickly changed into a fox, then back again. “--I can go out in the storm and look for Icy! I don’t have to worry about freezing my skin off, and I can see, hear, smell--whatever! All of it better!” Booksy Owly, who was standing at the back of the group, looked hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted a close friend to go vanishing into the tundra, but Scylla stepped forward before she could, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Ember,” she said, addressing the excited girl. “If you really think you can do this--”

“I know I can!” Ember interrupted, hopping from foot to foot. “And, look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll only go out an hour. Come on, this stands a better chance of us finding her than anything!”

“...Okay, then,” Scylla said, though it was clear she wanted to find Icy as much as anyone else (and with just reason). Ember bounced in delight, whipping around and plunging into the storm as a fox, her white-tipped tail quickly disappearing into the snow.

The next hour passed with nerves on end and tensions high, as they all loitered around, waiting for Ember to return. Finally, Danie, who was sitting near the entrance, half-asleep, jerked up, her eyes flying open, and scrambled to her feet. “Ember!” she shouted, and for a second nothing happened, then a narrow red muzzle appeared in the entrance of the cave, and Ember burst in, shaking snow from her pelt. In a second, a frost-dusted girl was standing there, her face alight with disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Scylla,” she sighed as the group gathered around her. “I looked everywhere, sniffed around every rock and poked my head into every crevice. No sign of Icy anywhere.” Scylla shook her head, though Ember’s dismay was mirrored on her face.

“It’s okay, Ember,” she said sadly. “At least you got back fine. Are you cold?”

“Actually…” Ember’s voice trailed off, sounding slightly confused. “No. I’m not, at all even.”

“But you were out there for so long!” Booksy Owly burst out, her eyes wide. “And it’s such a storm that Little Reader almost froze to death.” Her eyes flicked back to the cat at the back of the cave, who would still occasionally shiver in her sleep.

“Don’t ask me,” Ember said, grinning. Then, without any warning, the grin dropped off her face like water sliding off a leaf, and suddenly her eyes were not her own, her voice another’s. “I… guess… a… fire’s… burning… bright… somewhere...” Then she blinked a few times, looking like she’d just woken up. “Sorry--what?” she said, perplexed, as the others stared at her. “I guess foxes are just better with the cold!”

“Ooookaaay,” Scylla said, a hint of suspicion in her tone. “If you’re alright, then I guess we should be glad. And it looks like the storm’s tempering down anyways. We should be able to finally get out of here tomorrow.” Cheering met her words, though not from Ember, who had stumbled to the back of the cave and flopped down besides St Owl, a hand pressed to her temple.

“What’s wrong?” St asked, her leg trembling as she propped it against the floor.

“Acch--I dunno,” Ember said, squeezing her eyes shut. “I just got a pounding headache, out of nowhere. Weird, huh?” She winced and breathed deeply, clearly in a lot of pain.

Across the cavern, Booksy Owly suddenly felt something bump into her foot, scraping on the stone floor. She looked down in surprise, palming the rock in her hand and observing it, then glancing worriedly at Ember, who was rubbing her forehead in pain. She turned away, moving towards Joan, and tucked the dying coal into her pocket.