No More Frozen Bones

Chapter Five

My hands shook as I brought down the dull axe, trying to muster enough force to split the wood. I knew this axe. I knew it from the calluses that formed through the thickness of my gloves. It came down, not yet managing to cut clean through its target. I strained to lift it one more time. Down the axe went. With the thump of wood slicing in half, snow from the ground sprayed up, hitting my exposed cheek.

I flexed my numbing fingers against the top of my bicep, trying to roll out the ache that never seemed to leave. I switched my tool to my other hand, and that arm's muscles got a break, as well. Muscles, I'll admit, was a generous term.

My eyes darted around, making sure no one had seen my slacking before I repeated the monotonous task. I grabbed another log, set it on my makeshift chopping block, and down the axe went.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And—

"Mallory," a light voice yelled. Letting the hand holding the axe fall limp to my side, I snapped my head around to look for the culprit. I readjusted my gloves and swiped the powdery snow off my thick pants.

We were going through quite a warm spell. It happened about once a year. The new snow wouldn't freeze right away. When walking, we would sink knee-deep and get soaked through our canopy. It snowed a lot, and the snow was sticky. My father called it spring, but spring is the predecessor to summer, and there was no summer here. Mother said the thing Father missed most was summer nights. Warm ones.

Dread settled into my chest, and I shook the thoughts out of my head, continuing my search. The next time it called for me, the sound came from a different direction.

"Mal-lor-eee,"

I rolled my eyes at the pronunciation. I knew who it was now.

"Em-muh," I mocked back, still looking for my hidden friend. I checked behind a few of the trees, rubbing the back of my neck when I couldn't find her. I peeked at my surroundings to make sure no one but my rebellious friend was in the vicinity. Trailing them back to my chore, I began to load my chop onto my sled.

My vision trailed upward, and I found her balancing haphazardly on a bending tree branch. Not noticing my look, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath— no doubt getting ready to yell again. "Mal—"

"Stop it," I hushed, checking behind me. No one. Chill out, Mal. I dropped the axe, finally allowing myself to stretch out my covered hands. I continued to check every direction to be sure.

The tree strained when Emma plopped down on its branch. She swung her legs, keeping one hand gripped tight on the large trunk. When she saw my anxious movements, she rested her elbow on her knee and plopped her chin down on top of it.

"We're so far. So far and alone. The horror!" Emma groaned, letting her eyes roll back into her skull. "Now, can we do something fun?"

I rubbed at the roughness of my wrist. "He'll know."

She threw her head back. "Nuh-uh."

"You're childish."

She stuck out her tongue. "Older than—"

I moved my hand in a talking motion, raising the pitch of my voice. "Than you." Fourteen to sixteen. It wasn't a big difference, anyway.

Emma scrunched up her face, her hat raising with the movement of her dark brows. A strong gust of wind made the tree shake, and I winced. Her long, untamed hair blew forward, sticking to her mouth. She combed her hands through the black tangles and tucked them behind her ears. She wobbled a bit to maintain balance, but I could finally breathe when her grip returned to the trunk.