The biting wind of Drum Island's port town, Shelton, gnawed at any exposed skin, but Marya Zaleska, a stark slash of black in the monochrome landscape, seemed to absorb the cold rather than fight it. The massive Heart Pirates trench coat flapped around her boots like the wings of a great, grounded bird. Her breath plumed in steady, measured clouds as her golden-ringed eyes scanned the quiet, snow-packed streets. The air smelled of pine smoke, frozen salt, and the distinct, clean scent of deep cold. From within the inner pocket of her coat, a muffled, rhythmic "B'loop… b'loop…" provided a soft, wobbly counterpoint to the crunch of her footsteps.
Her gaze, sharp and observant, landed on a swinging wooden sign carved into the shape of a frothing mug. It creaked on its iron bracket, a lonely, welcoming sound in the frigid air. Pushing the heavy door open, she was met with a wall of warmth thick with the rich, savory aroma of stew and the low hum of conversation. The bar was a cozy cave of dark wood and amber light, a sanctuary from the relentless white outside.
She approached the counter, her boots quiet on the sawdust-strewn floor. The bartender, a burly man with a beard frosted with hints of grey and a clean apron, looked up from polishing a glass.
"What can I get for you?" he asked, his voice a low, friendly rumble.
"Mulled wine," Marya said, her tone even. She slid onto a stool, the black coat pooling around her.
He nodded, grabbing a bottle warming near a small hearth. He poured a generous measure of the deep red liquid into a heavy clay mug and set it before her. Fragrant steam, carrying notes of cinnamon, clove, and citrus, curled into the air. She wrapped her hands around the mug, the heat a welcome anchor.
After a sip of the spicy, warming wine, she looked at the bartender. "I'm looking for a doctor. A woman named Kureha."
The bartender chuckled, a dry, knowing sound. "Yeah, the crazy witch-doctor. Everyone 'round these parts knows about her. Lives in the castle right at the tippy-top of the Drum Rockies." He gestured vaguely with his thumb toward the ceiling, as if the mountain was right outside the window. "Been up there for longer than anyone can remember."
Marya gave a single, slow nod. "What's the best way to get there?"
A small, bright voice piped up from behind her. "I can show you how to get there!"
Marya turned on her stool. A girl, no more than twelve, was beaming up at her. She had a mess of white hair that seemed to be trying to escape from under a fur-lined hood, wind-chapped rosy cheeks, and eyes the color of a winter sky. A faint scar marked her left cheek. She was bundled in a patchwork parka that had clearly seen many seasons.
"Chessa," the girl announced, her smile unwavering. "I know all the best routes around here! I can get you there super fast. The super-fastest!"
Marya raised a skeptical brow, taking another slow sip of her wine. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of calm assessment.
The bartender gave a confirming grunt. "It's true. Kid's the best guide on the island. If you need to get somewhere without falling into a crevasse or annoying a snow ape, she's your girl."
Marya's gaze flicked between the bartender's honest face and the girl's earnest, beaming one. Finally, she nodded. "Okay, Chessa. Have a seat. Let's talk terms."
Chessa's grin widened impossibly further. She scrambled onto the tall stool next to Marya, her booted feet dangling a good foot from the floor. Marya looked to the bartender. "Go ahead and pour her a drink."
The man smirked. "One warm cider coming right up." He placed a smaller mug of steaming, spiced cider in front of Chessa, then stepped away, pretending to be engrossed in cleaning an already-spotless glass, though he kept a distant, watchful eye on the pair.
Marya turned back to Chessa, who was blowing carefully on her hot drink. "I have a sick friend," Marya stated, her voice low. "He can't walk."
Chessa put her glass down with a firm clink, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her parka. "That's okay! I have a sled. Polar can take all of us!"
Marya cocked her head, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips. "Polar?"
"Yeah!" Chessa nodded, her enthusiasm making her whole body wiggle on the stool. "My sled dog! He's the biggest, strongest, bestest dog in the whole world!"
The image of a massive, fluffy husky popped into Marya's mind. Her stoic expression softened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of warmth in her golden eyes that had nothing to do with the wine. "Okay then," she said, her voice losing a little of its edge. She dug into a pocket of the trench coat and pulled out a small, drawstring pouch. She loosened the tie, revealing a handful of plump, exotic-looking berries that seemed to glow with a faint inner light. "Half now, half later?"
Chessa's blue eyes went as wide as dinner plates. She stared at the berries, then back at Marya's face, then back at the berries, her mouth slightly agape. She beamed, nodding her head so vigorously her hood slipped back. "You have a deal, lady!"
They shook hands, Chessa's small, mitten-clad hand nearly disappearing into Marya's gloved one.
Marya stood, dropping a few berries onto the counter for the drinks. "Can you also show me the way to buy some coats?"
Chessa leaped off her stool, clutching her precious pouch of berries to her chest. "Yes! I know just the place! Right this way!" she declared, already marching toward the door with purposeful energy.
As they walked out into the blinding white, Chessa looked back over her shoulder and yelled into the warm confines of the bar, "I'll be back for some beef stroganoff and chocolate potatoes!"
The bartender's chuckle followed them out into the cold. "I'll have it ready and waiting for you, kid."
The door swung shut, closing off the warmth and leaving them in the quiet, snowy street, their breath mingling in the air—one tall and composed, the other small and buzzing with excitement, united by a quest for a doctor atop a mountain and the promise of a very good dog.
The heavy bag of winter clothing swung gently from Marya's hand, its contents—thick woolen coats, fur-lined trousers, and insulated boots for her unprepared crew—a stark contrast to the biting cold they were meant to defy. Ahead of her, Chessa skipped through the deep powder, her patchwork parka a splash of color against the endless white. The girl hummed a cheerful, off-key tune, her breath puffing in happy little clouds. The scent of pine and cold stone filled the crisp air, and the snow crunched satisfyingly under their boots, a sound that seemed to swallow all other noise in the quiet port town.
Inside a cozy tavern named The Frosted Mug, the air was thick with the warmth of bodies, the rich scent of roasting meat, and the low murmur of conversation. At a corner table, Natalie Blackwell, a smudge of what looked like soil on her cheek, was absently stirring a cup of tea while listening to Riggs Cohen enthusiastically describe the proper "aesthetic flow" of a sword swing. Her sharp blue eyes were glazed over, her mind clearly on other things.
A movement outside the frosted window pane caught her attention. A tall figure, a silhouette of pure black against the brilliant snow, passed by. The cut of the long coat, the set of the shoulders, the familiar hilt of a blade—it was achingly familiar. Natalie's spoon clattered into her saucer.
She elbowed Riggs sharply in the ribs, cutting off his monologue about "dramatic follow-through."
"Ow! Hey, what was that for?" he complained, rubbing his side.
"Was that… is that who I think it is?" Natalie whispered, her voice tight with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
Riggs squinted, his shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes. He shook his head to clear his view. "Who do you think it is?"
Natalie didn't answer. With a sudden, decisive motion, she shot up from her chair, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. She was out the tavern door in a heartbeat, letting in a blast of frigid air that made the other patrons grumble. Riggs, utterly bewildered but not one to be left out of potential excitement, scrambled after her.
Natalie planted herself in the middle of the snowy street, her practical boots sinking into the powder. "Marya!" she called out, her voice cutting through the quiet like a clarion call.
Marya stopped dead. Her back straightened almost imperceptibly. It was a reflex, the automatic response to her name. She turned, her golden-ringed eyes narrowing as they landed on the source of the call. A barely audible curse, a ghost of steam on the air, escaped her lips.
"It is you!" Natalie exclaimed, her initial shock giving way to a wave of overwhelming emotion.
Chessa stopped skipping and cocked her head, looking between the two women. "Friends of yours?" she asked Marya cheerfully.
Marya's jaw flexed. "I don't have time for this," she stated, her voice low and flat. She watched as Natalie, with Riggs trailing behind like a confused puppy, rushed toward her.
"What? How? Where?" Natalie sputtered, her words tumbling over each other. Her intelligent eyes were wide, taking in Marya's appearance, the large bag, the unfamiliar little girl.
Riggs finally caught up, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "Marya! Long time no see!" he announced, as if they'd just parted ways yesterday.
Natalie shot him a glare that could freeze boiling water.
Marya interrupted them, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I am in a bit of a hurry." She started to turn away, to continue her mission.
Natalie's hand shot out, grabbing Marya's arm through the thick trench coat. "A bit of a hurry? That is all you have to say? After all this time? After everything that…"
Marya sighed, a sound of profound weariness. "Natalie. It was good to see you. But…"
"But! But! But nothing!" Natalie released her arm to plant her hands on her hips, her entire posture radiating furious, motherly indignation. "We are going to talk! I am not going to just let you walk away!"
In response, Marya's arm simply dissolved. It turned into a wisp of pale, grey mist that slipped through Natalie's grasping fingers as if they weren't even there, before solidifying back into a perfectly solid limb. "Come on, Chessa," Marya said, as if nothing had happened. "We need to…"
Natalie gasped, then darted ahead, planting herself squarely in Marya's path, blocking her way. Her face was flushed with a mix of cold and high emotion.
Marya's eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine irritation in their golden depths. "You don't actually think you can…"
Natalie interrupted her, jabbing a finger in the air. "You left a lot of people behind when you left! A lot of people who care about you and are looking for you! Now you are here and, and, and you have nothing to say!" She balled her fists at her sides, struggling to find the words for the magnitude of her frustration. "Well… well I am going with you!"
Marya simply stared at her for a long, silent moment, her expression unreadable. The wind whistled softly down the street. Finally, she let out another sigh. "Do as you like. I do not have the time to argue with you."
She stepped around the stunned physician and continued walking, Chessa falling into step beside her with a skip.
Natalie gaped at her retreating back, utterly flabbergasted by the sheer, infuriating nonchalance of the response. Chessa looked back over her shoulder, her grin returning. "You coming now too?"
Natalie blinked. Then her professional, caretaker's resolve hardened. "Yes!" she declared, stomping her foot in the snow. "Yes, I am! Come on, Riggs!" she ordered, not even looking back as she hurried to catch up.
Riggs, who had been watching the entire exchange with the confused expression of someone who'd missed the first act of a play, jumped at the command. "Wait, what? Where are we going? Is there food?" he asked, scurrying after the three of them, a lanky, chaotic addition to the suddenly enlarged expedition.
The small procession cut a strange path through the snowy lanes of Shelton. Marya led with her long, ground-eating strides, the bag of winter gear swinging like a pendulum. Beside her, Chessa skipped and hummed, a tiny engine of cheerful noise. Behind them, Natalie marched with purpose, her doctor's coat flapping, while Riggs brought up the rear, his lanky frame and confused expression making him look like a lost seabird.
The only sound for a moment was the crunch of snow and Chessa's tuneless humming. Then, a soft bloop sounded from the region of Marya's collar. A wobbling, azure-blue head with massive, starry eyes peeked out, surveying the new companions with curiosity.
Natalie, her mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions, finally broke. "What are you doing here, Marya? And who is this child?" Her voice was a mix of professional concern and personal frustration.
Marya's golden eyes slid to her, then back to the path ahead, her expression unreadable. "The child is Chessa. She is my guide."
Chessa looked over her shoulder, beaming a sun-bright smile and giving a vigorous wave. "Hi!"
Natalie opened her mouth to fire another question, but Marya preempted her, her voice calm. "Why are the two of you here?"
Natalie took a sharp breath, collecting herself. "The Con—" She caught herself, remembering they were in a public street. She cleared her throat. "—A rotation on Drum Island is required for all medical staff. This island has very unique properties that make it ideal for medical training, especially in fields like herbal medicine and mycology. Some of the most renowned doctors have come from this island." She gestured vaguely at Riggs, who was trying to balance on a narrow ridge of ice. "And Riggs is my escort. Permanent residences is already established and have been for decades."
Marya gave a single, slow nod. "I see."
Natalie drew another breath, ready to finally demand a proper explanation, but Marya stopped abruptly. "We're here." She turned down a deserted dock and led the way to a sleek, intimidating submarine moored at the end. Without ceremony, she opened the rear hatch and descended inside.
They filed into the warm, metallic interior. Galit Varuna was seated at a small console, his long neck bent over a tactical slate covered in complex diagrams, his emerald eyes darting across calculations. He didn't look up immediately.
Jelly, sensing a safe and warm environment, wiggled out from Marya's collar, took a deep breath, and chirped, "Bloop! Cozy-cozy!"
Natalie's sharp, medical-professional composure shattered. She let out a short, startled scream at the sight of the bouncing, talking gelatinous being.
Galit finally put his slate down, his observant gaze taking in the new arrivals. His eyes lingered on Natalie and Riggs. "You brought back company," he noted, his tone dry.
Marya sighed, handing him the bag of clothing. "Yes. We have a guide."
Chessa giggled, watching Jelly begin a joyful, wobbling orbit around the now-terrified Natalie, who was pressing herself against a bulkhead.
Riggs, who had been utterly lost since leaving the tavern, finally found his voice. "So, are these friends of yours, Marya?" he asked, as if they'd just run into them at a market.
Galit had moved to drape one of the new heavy coats over the unconscious form of Atlas Acuta on the floor. The motion finally drew Natalie's eye away from Jelly. Her physician's instincts instantly overrode her panic. Her shock melted into focused concern.
"Move," she said, her voice suddenly authoritative. She knelt beside Atlas, her fingers going to his throat to check his pulse, then gently pulling back an eyelid to examine his pupil. She checked his breathing, her movements quick and assured.
Galit paused, glancing at Marya for instruction.
"It's alright," Marya said, her arms crossed. "She isn't who we were looking for, but she knows what she's doing."
Natalie looked up, her brow furrowed. "What happened to him? It looks like he's had an operation, but his pupils… they're unresponsive."
"He is suffering from a toxin," Galit explained calmly. "That is why we are here. We were told that Dr. Kureha would have the knowledge to…"
Natalie nodded, her expression grim. "Oh yes, she is very well known and…" She trailed off, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes.
Marya's gaze sharpened. "And what?"
Natalie sighed. "Let's just say she is a little rough around the edges. But yes, she should be able to treat this." Her practical mind switched to the next problem. "But how do you intend to carry him? It's a long, treacherous climb."
Galit gestured with his thumb toward his own shoulder. "Over my shoulder."
Natalie gaped at him. "You can't be serious! You could aggravate his injuries, disrupt his circulation, dislodge the IV!" She stood up, muttering under her breath, "Unbelievable! All that time training and she can't even remember basic first aid." She marched to the rear of the sub, where storage lockers were built into the hull. After a moment of clanking and shuffling, she called out, "Riggs! Come and help me with this!"
Galit looked at Marya, who was pinching the bridge of her nose, a faint, weary smirk on her lips as she shook her head.
A moment later, Natalie and Riggs reappeared, maneuvering a folded stretcher made of sturdy canvas and lightweight metal poles. Natalie began snapping out directions. "Riggs, you take the feet. You," she said to Galit, "take the head. Be careful of his neck. And someone needs to hold that IV bag higher than his heart!"
Riggs, struggling to unfold his end of the stretcher, finally blurted out, "Okay, wait! Time out! Who is everyone? I'm lost. I need introductions before I carry a giant furry guy up a mountain."
Marya let out a long, slow sigh. "Natalie. Riggs. This is Galit Varuna. The one on the floor is Atlas Acuta. The girl is Chessa, our guide." She gestured to the wobbly blue figure now trying to balance on a console switch. "And don't forget Jelly."
With a teamwork that was clumsy but effective, they managed to get the heavy Mink securely onto the stretcher. Jelly, with a happy squeal, morphed into a gelatinous puddle and oozed his way back into the warm sanctuary of Marya's inner coat pocket.
Chessa, who had watched the entire procedure with wide, fascinated eyes, bounced on the balls of her feet. "Okay! Ready? Polar is waiting! Adventure time!" She turned and led the way back out into the freezing air, a tiny captain charting a course for a castle in the clouds.