MMMM I would have liked to end the story on this chapter just so I could have the satisfaction of ending it on chapter 15 (what with it being Icies' fighter number and all -w-) I've waited to write this scene for so long :") It came out shorter than I expected, but I know well enough that if I tried to extend it I'd just spoil it lol

But that's not really possible with the state of the story as it is, so no, we're not done here yet! But we will be very soon : Hopefully I can be less sporadic with updates since this fic is coming to an end, so perhaps that'll motivate me to write the next (final?) chapter.

This certainly won't be the last fic with my favourite ice kiddos any time soon, though :)

She dashes away hurriedly, eager to escape his tagging hand as he chases after her.

"I'm gonna catch you!" the boy yells after his friend, mid-laughter.

The girl only turns around to playfully stick her tongue out in response, continuing to run from him.

But no sooner than later does she find herself tripping in the thick blanket of snow she'd been sprinting through, her friend following suit shortly after and falling on top of her-

"Ahh!"

The boy giggles again, looking down towards the girl.

"I caught you!"

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I didn't hold on tight enough.

Now you're falling away, away into the depths of fog and clouds beneath me, away from where I can't reach you, away from where I can't see or hear or feel or know you any longer.

Why did you let go? Why are you leaving me? Why are you going?

Why?

You've left me with nothing, feeble as I am already up here. You've brought me up so high only to abandon me at this height, just when we've come so far up together- you've left me alone. You've left me helpless, torturing me as I can do nothing but tearfully scream your name as you leave. How stubborn can you be in your self-hatred to leave me like this?

"I'll be the one to fall for you."

You said you'd fall for me, and now you have. But at what cost? What's the point if you won't land that fall?

Where are you going, Nana?

"HIIIIIISSSSSS!"

My head snaps back up, facing the condor above as it furiously flaps its wings at me, aggravated by my presence. Its hover, however, is not as stunted as it was seconds ago, and I feel the increase in height start to quicken as the knots in my stomach grow with near-unbearable nausea. I feel sick.

Despite it all, determination reigns supreme overall. For her sake, I can't give up now. The only way to counter my weakening grip is to keep on climbing.

With what strength I have left, I sling my dangling mallet back over my shoulder on its strap and reach up to grab the condor's main body with my now-free hand; fighting the condor's aggressive wings isn't easy, but I manage to slip my hand through relatively quickly to pull myself up. The closer I get to the condor's head, the louder and more irritating its screech grows, though I have no choice but to endure it.

I can feel the muscles in my arms tiring – especially after everything I've put my body through – and they ache terribly. Yet I know I can't afford to loosen my grip. Not again.

I let go of the condor's claws and move my other hand to its backside so that both my hands are securely wrapped around its body. Now all I need to do is push myself up.

"SCREEEEE!"

Unfortunately, that proves to be quite a difficult task at the moment. Especially when bundles of feathers are batting you endlessly in the face and the world around you is spinning. But there's no chance of attacking the condor in any way in my current position, so my only choice is to continue my climb.

I manage to swing myself up and onto the back of the condor, my legs straddled across it as I tightly wrap my arms around its body, clinging onto the creature for dear life. The huge bird is still going strong in its efforts to shake me off, but the harder it shakes, the more tightly I hold on. Up this high, there's not much else my instinct can do but that.

Although the condor has ceased its ascent, much to my relief, it continues to struggle under my weight – perhaps more so, now that I've become more than a nuisance dangling from its claws and taken my place much higher. Instead, it now bounces and flaps around the air in a fit of chaos, seeming to have lost its sense of direction. It's nauseating. I can't even reach behind for my mallet without feeling like my stomach is turning inside out; the air (or major lack, thereof) only suffocates me even more, despite my feeble attempts to regain my breath.

Time is running away from me, from us, from them. I have to move quickly. I'll take what little chance we have left of bringing our harvest home safely. After all, the smallest stroke of luck is better than none at all, right?

Enshrouded in the dismal grey of the clouds, I'm dizzified by the crash course this monstrous bird is taking me on. All that seems to be ahead of me is a blurry mass of dull whiteness and the fuzzy figure of the condor I'm sat upon, a shape I can barely focus on.

Holding back the urge to retch, I force myself to retrieve my sole weapon, lacking the energy to conjure even a snowflake from my fingers. Making the effort to produce some kind of frostiness would only result in the furthering of my own frostbite nonetheless, so my resources are scarce; thankfully, the same can be said for the condor, beginning to tire of its unsuccessful attempt to remove me from its body. As if its flight was ever coherent in the first place, it's clearly taking a toll on the poor thing as it starts to slope down.

If there's any relief to get out of this predicament, it's having the weight of a big piece of wood off my shoulders. I don't bother to detach the mallet from its strap – I can't afford to lose it the same way Nana did – and tighten my position on the condor. Its now sluggish movements make my attempts at balancing myself somewhat easier, allowing me to tighten my grip on the mallet handle. I squeeze the splintered wood as hard as I can, pushing the clutter in my head out and away. I won't let myself feel anything as I do this.

I won't reminisce and laugh, or cry and weep hopeless apologies to her, or even scream and roar in hatred and frustration at anything and everything this monster has done to me, to them, to us.

So I raise my arms.

Is this what it felt like, Nana?

This sweet warmth as I fall. Did you feel it too? The rush of the air as you glided down like an angel? The relief of returning to the frozen grounds we walked on together? The joy of having done what you could?

I'm happy too.

I did it. I did what you said I would.

We can go home now.

It's frozen.

It's in a heap on the ground, shards and spikes of ice jabbed into its corpse. They etched deathly constellations in its skin as it fell and crashed, probably, cuts and wounds making way for fresh blood to seep out. It soaks the feathers and fur a deep dark crimson.

I'm nearly frozen, too. It's like the pain from my head multiplied and spread to the rest of my body to torture me further. I barely have the energy to try and drag myself away from the rotten carcass, only being able to remain beside it absorbing the ugly scent of death. The red on the fur of my parka is strikingly brighter than the red dying the condor, bleeding like blossoming flowers across the white and blue. I have my doubts that it isn't only the work of the condor's demise.

It's a painful struggle to try and open my eyes any wider, tired as I am. Death surrounds me. The death of a hideous creature, the death of the future, the death of my-

Nana.

Where are you?

I have to look further. If I'm in my last moments, I may as well make the most of what I still have. What I'll always have.

"Nnghh...hn..."

It's barely a push as I slowly let myself roll off and away from the bloody lump of meat and feathers, grunting in pain as I hit the icy ground. It's rock hard yet soothing, secure and safely away from the furious winds and cold above. A good place to die.

Away from (what was) the condor, there's light. Lying on my back, I can see a brilliant bright blue sky, letting through vibrant rays of warm sun that shine upon the snow around me. Little snowflakes glisten and sparkle as I turn to face my right away from the blinding light. There's whiteness for miles around the peak, but coupled with the periwinkle shades above, it's hard to not admire. It's beautiful.

Turning the rest of my body onto my side, I manage to open my eyes a little more. But the overwhelming burst of white I expect to see doesn't appear.

Slowly, my eyes accustom to the rest of the light, forming an even more beautiful image before me. I start to recognise a familiar vision: a messy clump of pine brown bangs covering a peaceful face, slumbering quietly in a cosy pink parka. Hood wrapped over her head, I start to notice more things.

A red flower blossoms from her chest, one that looks like the one over my own parka, bleeding the same red across the fur. In the corner of my eyes, I make out a red river seeping out of her mouth, rosy chapped lips showing anything but the smile she'd gifted me in the skies.

Amidst the lumps and flakes of snow, she lies.

She's frozen.

I open my mouth as if to speak, but it's stuck. I can only choke and gape in astonishment, stunned to the bone as I start to freeze up even more. I can't find that fleeting blissful solace from moments ago, not here, not now.

I can't reach out to her – I couldn't reach out to her, and even now I can't touch her, or hold her while she drifts off to sleep, or say something she can listen to, that she'd listen to even if she didn't give a care about my nonsense. I can't make her smile, I can't make her cry, I can't make her mad, I can't give her any more surprises or scares-

I couldn't, I can't, and I won't be able to stay by her side.

I see only blurs and distortions now. The downpour is coming and the tears won't stop falling.
Soon it's all going to fall away from me the same way she did. I won't be able to hold on. I can't hold on.

"...I...I'm so sorry, Nana. I'm so-"

I start to cough and choke again, scarcely able to let my words flow (let alone talk). My chest aches with each word I manage to utter. But I continue.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," I whisper.

The sun sends shivers down my spine, its warmth like some kind of jeering taunt at my grief.

"I killed the condor. It's dead, but that- that's all I could manage, and all for this?"

"What use is that thing being dead if I- if we can't, we...we can't even bring back what we lost, we can't go home and feed everyone, we can't get off of this stupid mountain and just-"

For a moment, my sobs interrupt my complaints, gagging my mouth as I struggle to find my courage to speak once more. It hurts and aches – my chest hurts so much, my throat feels sore, and the frost is devouring me, crawling and clutching at my body as it eats away. Like a rope of thorns, it holds me as its prisoner.

"...There's so much I still want us to do, Nana." For once, I'm lost for words myself. I don't know what to say.

All I can say is what I do still know:

"I- I want to climb even higher...even higher mountains together with you. I want us to climb together again, I-"

I pause, shakily sucking in a deep breath and mustering the last of my energy to reach for her hand, clasping it in my own.

"I want us to... climb higher than we are now."

...I'd love to, Popo.

More than anything.

Thank you.