Hunt Beyond the Frozen Fire by Christa Faust, Gabriel Hunt

from his feet. The bigger problem, though, was that he only had two more tiny, ice-crusted rocks left, to cross nearly the same amount of space that he’d had four islands to get him across so far. There’d be no more stepping across from here on—these two would require jumps, and jumping from one icy surface to another, with zero tolerance for error…
    He steadied himself, aimed, and leapt, landing squarely in the center of the island. But it wasn’t a flat surface—what he hadn’t been able to see from where he’d jumped was that on the far side the ice was canted steeply to the right. He found himself pitching forward. He tried to lean back, but he couldn’t—too much momentum was dragging him forward, downward, toward the water—
    Then he felt a mighty tug on his shoulder and found himself lifted off his feet, like a fish on the end of a line. “No you don’t,” Millie shouted. “You stay outta that water, y’hear?” And Gabriel landed flat on his back on the surface of the little island. He felt himself start slipping again and spun onto his belly, scrabbling with the palms of his gloves for purchase. Gabriel stopped his skid and lay facedown on the ice, gripping tightly with all four limbs. “Thanks,” he said, too quietly to be heard. But Millie knew he’d said it and called back, “Ain’t nothin’, brother.”
    Slowly, Gabriel rose to his knees, brushing off the surface of his parka as best he could. It was wet, maybe even dangerously so—but a hell of a lot less so than it might have been.
    Gabriel re-coiled the rope, replaced it around his shoulder, and got to his feet.
    “You sure you’re okay?” Velda called.
    “No,” Gabriel said, and bent his knees for the next jump. He landed unevenly and had to take a step forward to keep his balance. But he kept it. “But if you wait till you’re sure about things,” he shouted, “you’ll never get out of bed in the morning.” He jumped from the island to the far shore and, pulling the rope tight, secured it to a piton he hammered into a cleft in the wall. The rope now stretched across the river, within easy reach of five of the six islands and not completely out of reach of the sixth.
    He cupped his hands on either side of his mouth. “So, who’s first?”
    Millie was the last to cross. Rue had gone hand over hand most of the way, relieving some of the pressure on her injured palm by using her legs as well, crossed atthe ankles over the rope. Velda had crossed carefully, measuring each jump. And then Nils had gone, his long stride making several of the crossings easier for him than any of the others had found them.
    Then it was Millie’s turn. He avoided putting his weight on the rope, not only because he was the heaviest by far but because there was no one left on the far shore to hold onto the rope if it came free from its mooring.
    He made it to the last island without incident—a few tense moments, but he kept his head and his balance. But then as he landed on the surface of the final island, his foot slipped. His free arm pinwheeled for balance as he gripped the rope. It dipped low under his weight and before he could right himself, he plunged one leg into the water up to the knee.
    “GodDAMN,” he hollered, yanking his foot back up as if he’d dipped it into boiling oil and nearly overbalancing the other way.
    “Hang on,” Gabriel called, hauling on the rope with all his weight to keep it up while Millie leaned against it. “You’re almost across.”
    Millie regained his balance and then jumped the last six feet to the bank. Gabriel and Nils reached out to catch him and haul him away from the river’s edge.
    “Get his boot off,” Nils said. “Quickly.”
    Gabriel pulled off Millie’s boot and dripping sock and then took off his own parka and wrapped it around Millie’s cold, corpse-pale foot. Nils pulled out a knife from his pack and began cutting sections from Millie’s sleeping bag, an L-shaped corner piece and a