It becomes a daily pilgrimage, healers skating up the river with a pack full of supplies. It only makes sense to send people in pairs, but Derrica still isn't exactly sure why it was Leander waiting for her at the edge of the river. It's been a quiet, awkward journey so far.

Derrica isn't steady on her skates. She's cold and the memory of their argument is burning in her chest. Hurt and embarrassment wash over her in waves, and she keeps indecisively considering things to say and then taking them back. Can they feasibly make it all the way to the village in silence? What will they do when they get there? Trade curt observations over the heads of their patients?

The back of Leander's head tells her nothing. He's pulled ahead of her easily. It wouldn't feel personal any other day but today. Leander's taller, his legs are longer, and it doesn't take much for him to move faster. But still, it stings a little.

That's what she's thinking, wobbling slightly as she strays towards the middle of the lake. The ice gives beneath her so suddenly that she barely has time to shout before she's plunged into the icy water.