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Kauff refused to admit this had been a mistake, not even to himself. Any minute now, Lier would pop through some magical door in the snow ahead, teasing and chastising him for wandering off and leaving them without anyone to chop and haul logs around.

He might have turned back when he'd lost the tent. Should have. He had hoped to reduce the bone deep chill by building a fire, and when he'd returned from gathering kindling, it had been gone. Dragged off. He might have turned back. It was too late now.

The wind kicked up, driving thick flakes of falling snow into his eyes. They mingled with the tears he had held in check for so long, freeing them to roll down his cheeks. He batted them away with his bulky, unresponsive hands. Crying was not an option, even if he was going to die.

The first thought that crossed his hazy mind when he felt the wriggling against his breastbone was that he was dying. Not of the chill, surprisingly. No, what was killing him was some sort of giant ice worm that had burrowed its way under his coat and was now continuing on through his skin. When he blearily realized it was a restless Rawn, Kauff laughed, both pleased that he wasn't going to die by worm and relieved that his poscuta was still alive.

His mirth was frustratingly brief. It seemed he had attracted an audience.

"What're you doin', sneakin' round out here?"

A rather hysterical giggle pushed its way up from deep in Kauff's chest, only to be swallowed by his snow-caked collar before it could escape. Sneaking? Him? Really? For the briefest of moments he had hoped he might persuade the band of earthlings fanning out around him to help him find his way out of this storm to safety, but somehow he doubted that was to be the case. He felt the tiniest compulsion to try anyway, even as the one who had spoken reached inside his coat and pulled out a sturdy metal tube. Too bad Kauff's mouth had other ideas.

"I'm n...not," the prentice stuttered, lips and tongue thick with the cold. He could smell the liquor on the man now, a heady odor that Kauff couldn't help his reaction to. This was not the place nor the time to start itching for a taproom brawl, and yet, he was. "I'm not sneaking anywhere. You're just looking for an excuse to hit someone. To show how tough you are with your shitty little pipe." He turned to glare as best as he could at the others, raising the fist that wasn't bracing Rawn and flexing the stiffness out of it. Unfortunately, his protective gesture only stoked their suspicions.

"He's got somethin'," their leader shouted. The men closed in, their proximity alone making Kauff weary. "Take it from him."

He swung back to face the talkative man, using his momentum to put some small measure of force behind his fist. He honestly didn't know why he was trying so hard. This fight was at least eight against one and his freezing limbs were hindering his mobility so thoroughly that he might as well have not been moving at all. His punch connected with his attacker's face at the same time that the pipe met his shoulder and they both staggered away from one another, temporarily stunned. Kauff was grabbed and held by strong hands, his shoulder screaming as it was wrenched behind him. They took hold of his legs as well, but not before he kicked one of them senseless. When the man with the pipe leaned close, Kauff was pleased to see dark blood dribbling from his split lip. Not bad.

"Let's see what you got," the man snarled, grabbing the front of Kauff's coat and yanking at the buttons. A few remained attached, but most of them popped off and flew away, disappearing into the snow. Pipe Man frowned.

"Are you kidding? You don't even have anythin' on y—"

Rawn launched himself from the comfort of Kauff's coat at the Ice man's face, scrabbling and snarling as if his life depended on it, which it likely did. The hands holding the prentice back let him go in shocked unison and he fell forward, sinking up to his elbows in a drift. Running on a steady stream of adrenaline, Kauff rose despite his weakening shoulder and leaped for his attacker again, barely missing the pipe as it swung wildly over his head. He caught the man around the waist, his ear pressed to the other's chest, and as the weapon came into contact with something behind him, Kauff could almost hear the thud of impact. The commotion around them ceased immediately, the other men going eerily silent as Kauff fell forward. The man with the pipe edged out of the way, staring at something else entirely. The prentice might as well have not been there at all.

The men moved closer as Kauff rolled onto his back, staring up into the darkened sky. A new voice spoke, one of the others gathered there.

"Baenek. What did you do?"

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! IT WAS THIS—"

The rest of the man's accusatory retort paled in importance when compared to the pipe that drove into Kauff's temple. His vision went white, brighter than the snow hours before under blinding daylight, and he struggled to sit up and fight despite the pain.

The second blow didn't hurt quite as badly. He wasn't sure if that was because he hadn't been hit as hard or because he was nearing his end.

His head hurt. It hurt so much he was sick with it, his nearly empty stomach heaving as he opened his eyes. He could barely see between the lack of lanterns and his double vision, but what he could make out was bathed in a pale blue glow. Kauff tried to roll onto his side, and when that didn't work, when it negated the affect of the soothing light, he turned his head away from the person kneeling nearby and dry heaved until his discomfort passed.

"We have to go," the figure said, his words a messy jumble in Kauff's head. He closed his eyes and concentrated, fitting them together like beads on a string. "Can you stand?"

"I..." He couldn't feel his limbs or most of his face. It was a concern, but there was a greater one. "Where's Rawn?"

"Rawn?" The Ice shot up straight as an arrow, which would have been funny in almost any other situation. "Oh, dear." He scrambled away with a rustle of fabric and fur.

Kauff didn't remember much about their slow trek to safety. He knew he hadn't stopped fretting over Rawn, pressed between his body and his ruined coat. He also knew he hadn't stopped talking, urged to speak by his rescuer so that he wouldn't fall unconscious. Alek. Somewhere along the way he had picked that up too. Everything else fell away, save for the nuzzle of his familiar and his own feeble voice, until he felt warmth against his skin and the pinch of his limbs regaining sensation.

"Ow," he muttered as he was urged down, down, down to sit on a low pallet covered with blankets.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The word was little more than a rush of air. He held his hand up a few inches and wiggled his blocky fingers, grimacing as Alek tugged off his glove.

"That doesn't look normal."

Kauff didn't think so either. From the tips of his fingers to their first knuckles his skin had gone unhealthily splotchy. But as much as they prickled and stung, his discomfort didn't keep him from nodding off, now that he was warm and still. He listed to one side, jerking awake as he was eased out of his coat and onto his back. He thought he heard Alek speak, but it was an unintelligible hum, serving as the final balm to lull him to sleep.

He awoke to low voices conversing nearby and Rawn scrabbling at his side. His hands were lightly wrapped in something slimy, and he was so blissfully warm that he was smiling even before he opened his eyes.

"You're awake."

"Mmhm." His vision was much clearer than it had been outside, or it would have been clearer had there not been a bandage obscuring one of his eyes. He reached up to move it, but his clumsy hand was pressed back onto the bed by a wrinkly old woman he'd never seen before in his life.

"Keep still," was all she said before she went back to addressing Alek.

Hmph. Kauff glared at the woman's profile for a full ten minutes before he drifted off again.