Antarctica was so much colder than Private had ever thought was possible of any location on Earth. The wind seemed to slice into his skin, as if he had no feathers. Within a minute, he longed for the tight container that they had hidden in, but Rico pushed him forward, refusing to let him go back. Private knew he was going to freeze to death and that he would be buried by snow in less than a day.

Rico led the way, picking his way with care and ease through the frozen terrain, hardly seeming to notice the icy breeze that blew loose snow across the landscape. Private couldn't feel any part of his body, but he pressed on through the cold, barren plains, thinking of sunny summer days in New York. He wished more than anything that they were in someplace warm, and he lost himself in the fantasy.

Rico glanced back occasionally to see if Private was doing as poorly as he'd thought. He was obviously cold and tired, but he continued to walk. A bubble of pride grew in Rico's chest, and he smiled to himself. A captive penguin that could fight through the frigid winds of a homeland that he had never known was an accomplishment, and though any other warrior from a tribe here on the frozen continent would scoff and deride Private's shivering body and blank expression, Rico was proud of him.

After two hours of walking, Rico knew that he could push Private no farther. He hunted for a cave, checked it for predators, then pulled Private into the rocky cavern. They went deep into the cave, around a corner to get away from the wind. Private dropped down onto the hard ground, wrapping his flippers around himself and shivering from head to foot. He was cold and tired, and Rico could sense his desperation.

Without a word, Rico hacked up an oil lantern and lit it. Private didn't even move toward the warmth. He was lost in misery beyond anything he had ever experienced before. Rico moved the lamp closer and sat down beside the shaking boy.

"It'll get better, Private," Rico said softly. "Your feathers will acclimate, and we'll preen you until they lock out the cold. Then you'll be warmer. It won't be this bad forever."

"How?" Private rasped.

Rico hacked up a bottle of water and a bowl. "Come, drink."

Private didn't move for a few moments then heaved himself to his feet and scooted closer. They emptied the bottle, gulping down the fresh water with an urgency that Private didn't understand. He sat back, his stomach rumbling, and he stared straight forward, his eyes shining more than usual.

Rico stared at the oil lamp, the heat soaking into his chilled body. He was just as cold as Private. Colder, actually He hadn't been preened. There was no oil on his feathers, and they weren't linked together. But he knew about the cold. He knew he could survive. He just wanted Private to be warmer.

"Come here."

"Why?" Private asked, hugging himself.

"I'm going to preen you. And teach you how to preen yourself and others."

"What's the point?" Private snarled.

Rico was undeterred by the harsh tone. "The oil will help you to stay warm and waterproof, and the preening will make sure your outer feathers keep out the cold better."

Private glanced over, tears in his eyes. But he obediently wriggled over to Rico. The native penguin leaned down to touch a spot near his tail. Private craned his neck to watch Rico's flipper.

"What are you doing?"

"This is where the oil comes from," Rico explained. "When you preen yourself, you'll use your beak to spread the oil around your feathers. You'll draw it up to your flippers and use your flippers to get your head and face. I'll preen you, and you preen me. Deal?"

Private, still shivering, nodded. Rico leaned down and drew his beak along Private's tail, and in the light of the oil lamp, Private's feathers began to gleam. Rico used his beak to spread the oil around Private's back, digging into his feathers and brushing his skin lightly. It felt nice, and the thing inside Private began to stir again, releasing a noise from his chest that sounded like a cat's purr.

Rico grunted to acknowledge the noise, and he continued to oil Private's feathers. Private watched, taking note of each movement. Occasionally, Rico would nibble, scratching his skin with soft, precise movements of his beak. Private moved as Rico guided him, lifting first his right flipper then his left as Rico skillfully preened him. Ending with Private's face, Rico nipped at his friend's beak in a show of affection before drawing back to see his work.

Private's feathers shown in the light of the lantern. His shivering had decreased dramatically, only a tremor in his limbs, and he looked handsome. Rico nodded, pleased.

"You look good, Private. Feel warmer?"

The younger penguin admired himself for a moment then looked up. "I do. I feel a lot better."

"Good. I'd like to be warmer, too. Your turn to preen me."

Private swallowed. "What if I mess up?"

"I expect you to," Rico said matter-of-factly. "You've never done it before. First find the oil gland by my tail."

Private had never felt so awkward in his young life as he lowered his face to Rico's tail and looked around for something shiny. His face burned, and he shook his head.

"I…I don't know…"

Rico snorted. "Use your beak. The oil is secreted under the feathers."

After a moment's hesitation, Private nudged aside the feathers, which immediately started to gleam. A startled noise escaped his beak, but he smiled. Rico smiled back.

"Use your beak to spread the oil," Rico instructed. "Move the feathers around to coat them."

Leaning forward, Private rubbed his beak into the slick skin then began to copy what Rico had done to him. His movements were awkward, and he wasn't very good. But Rico didn't complain, watching with patience, nudging his beak along every once in a while, telling him to get more oil. After twenty minutes, Private felt like a failure. Feathers stuck up awkwardly, and he sat down, crossing his flippers.

"Not bad for your first try," Rico said, twisting in an almost impossible way to preen himself and fix Private's mistakes.

"You look horrible," Private groused.

"You'll get the hang of it," Rico murmured, smoothing his feathers with ease.

"No, I won't," Private said.

Rico said nothing, preening himself with skill that Private envied. After stewing for a few minutes, Private jerked to his feet, his claws flexing instinctively. He wanted to snap, and he began to pace, wondering what in the world was wrong with him. Rico ignored him, running his beak along his flipper. Private watched, his thoughts dark and brooding. A soft noise in the back of his throat prompted the icy blue eyes to glance at him thoughtfully for a moment before Rico returned his attention to his preening.

The thing didn't like that. It was a dismissal, something that made Private feel even worse. His feet carried him behind Rico, and he gazed at the smooth, glossy feathers—That you couldn't do yourself—his attention on the vulnerable neck. The thing purred inside of him, and the desire to attack, to hurt, filled him. Just like in the park. And once again, Private lunged forward, unaware of what he was doing or why.

Rico moved with such speed that Private registered the empty place only as he passed through it. Landing on his belly, he slid forward a foot or two then popped back onto his feet. Rico stood beside the lantern, his eyes still curious and a little amused. Private didn't like that amusement. It was humiliating to know that his honest efforts to hurt (But I don't want to hurt Rico, do I?!) were being laughed at.

A grating screech left Private's beak and he pawed at the ground. Rico tensed, his right foot sliding back, his claws flexing. He no longer looked amused. Now he looked angry. The eyes that had held fondness and patience now narrowed, warning Private to calm down or else. But Private didn't want to. He desired the or else promised in his friend's eyes. He growled, snorting and shifting his weight.

Rico shook his head. "Don't, Private. You won't win."

Private let out the shriek again and dove forward. The next thing he registered was pain! Hot, aching, deep, paralyzing pain! Private screamed in shock and fear, hitting the unforgiving ground with his full weight. He was flipped onto his back and Rico placed his clawed foot on Private's belly, his eyes dark and angry. With blood staining his beak, the older penguin glared at him. The thing inside the younger penguin shouted that he was going to die very soon, and Private whimpered.

Rico's gaze was intense again, intense and curious. He pressed his claws down just a bit harder, and Private could feel his skin about to be pierced. A whining squeak came from his beak, and to Private's surprise, Rico nodded and removed his foot. Sitting beside the lantern, he watched the young penguin struggle to breathe through pain. Blood pooled on the ground beneath Private's left side where he'd pierced skin with his beak. Private writhed and shivered, trying to ease the pain.

Rico watched him for a few moments then grabbed Private's flipper and heaved him to sit up. Private's body didn't want to cooperate, and Rico chirruped, a disapproving noise with a dark undertone. Private sat up straight, clutching his left side. His wide, dark eyes stared at the blood that ruffled his feathers, which shone for an entirely different reason.

"Y-you hurt me," Private whispered hoarsely.

"You attacked me," Rico replied, kneeling down to see the wound. "And it isn't deep, anyway. If I were any other native, you would be dead with your guts strewn over the icy landscape. Pathetic attempt, really. You must learn. This should teach you to curb your desire to fight."

Private swallowed, watching Rico observe the damage. The bleeding was already slowing, even Private could tell that. But it stung and burned as he moved. The young penguin had known nothing but love and care from Skipper and Kowalski, and he had considered them to be gruff. But this was a whole new level of gruff. Rico didn't seem sorry at all. One of his teammates, his guardians, had plunged his beak into Private's flesh. And it hurt. The thing inside of him warned him to be wary of Rico now.

"What is it?" Private asked, tears in his eyes.

"What is what?" Rico asked, glancing up.

"There's something that told me to fight you. I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to hurt you, but you looked like you thought I was funny, and it hurt the thing and it told me to attack you."

Rico clicked his beak, standing up. "That would be your instincts. I'm glad you have some. As weak as they probably are, they are stronger than Skipper and Kowalski's. That is good here in my homeland. We'll teach you more about it. But I have to go and fish."

Private blinked. "You're leaving me here?"

"Do you want to starve?" Rico asked pointedly. He stood and stretched. "Stay in the cave. You're not ready to face anybody, penguins, leopard seals, or wolves. They would tear you apart."

Private nodded. "You'll be quick?"

"Depends on how the fishing goes. I won't be more than a day."

Before Private could ask if Rico was serious, the older penguin slid out into the icy air. Private nursed his wound, shifting around to try and find a comfortable position. He thought about what Rico had said about the thing. Instinct. That was the word for it. It scared Private a little, but he trusted Rico. He had no choice. He was alone in the frozen south with the only penguin on his team that could teach him about living here. That was good, right?

And it was, but the ache from the shallow wound that Rico had left on his side reminded him of Marlene's words. Because this wasn't an accidental wound. Rico had done it deliberately. And for the first time since Skipper and Kowalski had been captured, he wondered if he could trust Rico. The scary thing was that he didn't have an answer.