Author's Note: Oh, where do I begin? This story never could have happened but it's driving me insane, so I had to write it down. If you've read Kay, this would be set sometime after Erik escaped Persia and toured the Orient but before he decided to settle down and build things. Secondly, I do realize that at this point in the original story Christine would be way to young for him, if she were born at all, so for the sake of my story I have made her about the same age now as she was then. Yeah, I could have just created a new character, but Mary Sues are annoying to write, and I like writing about interactions between Erik and Christine. Lastly, all I can say is just go along with whatever happens and have faith that I know what I'm doing.

PS – (XXXXXX)'s signal's switching POV in here. Just thought I'd warn you to avoid confusion.

Disclaimer: If you don't recognize them, they're mine, and people with lots of money already own anybody else.

"Hell is more than half of Paradise." Edwin Arlington Robinson

Christine's POV

My heavy eyes slowly opened as the rough wagon lurched to a halt to reveal a blurry world of white, sending searing pain my pounding head. With a slight whimper, I immediately clamped them tightly shut as another wave of nausea swept through me, fearing the beating that would follow should I become ill again. Fighting the sickness I curled closer into myself, seeking any welcoming warmth to ward off the freezing chill of the blizzard. Dimly I registered that my two captors were arguing again but after enduring several such fights I lacked to will to care. I listened instead to the screaming wind that dug its icy nails into my bones, wishing I would die. And then suddenly the world exploded, again and again.

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Bera lurched up with a start. Three gunshots pierced through the howling wind and for a moment echoed through the trees, the signal for help. If they're lost in this blizzard, he thought grimly, they'd need all the help they can get. Stepping out of his cozy tent, he could barely see his wagon through the swirling flakes though it sat not ten feet away. It was nearly impossible to determine which direction the shots had come from but a search party would have to be sent out. Sighing deeply, he watched as the puff of steam left his lips before being swallowed by the storm, then, squaring his shoulders, marched into the blinding whiteness to gather the others for the search.

"Over here!" he called out, not an hour later, as he stared down at the bodies of the two men before him. Half frozen already, their blood staining the crisp snow, it was clear the men had slain each other. One man clutched an old shotgun while the other held a shiny pistol and a gleaming hunting knife laid beside him.

"You found them?" one of the men shouted back as he and the others followed the sound towards the little valley where he stood beside the dead.

"Yes," he shouted back as the men crested the hill and looked down on the scene. "They're dead, looks like they shot each other, though one's got a good knife on him."

"Anything worth saving in the wagon?" another shouted as they cautiously climbed down the hill. Bera started, as if noticing it for the first time. It was a sad sight, old and worn, with one wheel stuck in the ditch beside the road. Still harnessed to it, an old grey pony stood, head lowered nearly to its knees. Walking closer, he could see the peeling paint on the sides and the stretched and faded canvas covering looked ready to collapse under the weight of the snow, which piled higher even as he approached. Unable to see anything from the front he carefully made his way around to the back, where the loose flaps where fluttering madly in the hellish wind. Lift them out of the way he leaned closer, trying to see anything in the shadows within the wagon. As his snow-blinded eyes slowly adjusted to the soothing darkness, he felt his heart lurch to his throat at what lay inside.

"God have mercy…" he whispered.

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Christine's POV

Strange voices…, I thought numbly, my freezing body nearly incapable of rational thought as I drifted back from the edge of nothingness. Voices on the wind…Eyes still closed I sensed the shadow that loomed before the opening, blocking the painful light. Drawing upon the last of my strength, every so slowly I raised my heavy head and, struggling to pry open my icy lashes, found myself staring at the weathered face of a stranger. He looked straight through me for a moment, as if he didn't see me. "Help us…," I managed to painfully croak, before slipping deeply into oblivion.

AN: Everybody still with me? Didn't really want to cut chapters here but it just seemed like a good place to stop. It must be the cliffhanger-lover in me!