17

Judy had never seen the city streets so empty. Only the occasional emergency vehicle, their lights flashing and sirens blaring, appeared with any regularity. Once, she saw a caravan of antelope putter passed at an intersection, but everyone else seemed to have taken cover. The only other vehicles remaining in the streets now were the ones that had been hastily parked along the curb, which were starting to flood. Judy saw more than one micro-vehicle float by, all empty, thank goodness, but she felt for the mice and other small mammals who would venture out after the storm was over and find they no longer had a vehicle to retrieve.

Water poured in frothing currents into the gutters and whole blocks were dark where the electricity had failed. Trashcans and patio furniture from the local outdoor cafes whose owners either hadn't had time to secure anything before taking cover or who had underestimated the severity of the storm lay tipped over on the sidewalks half a block down from where they should be, and tree limbs from as far as the Rainforest District littered the street.

On one particularly flooded street corner, Judy had to stop and lecture a group of teen hippos who were enjoying the novelty of having a pond in the road that it was too dangerous to be out and that they needed to seek shelter at their nearest river crossing or she would be forced to take them in. They'd trudged away in a huff, and Judy had watched them go until she was sure they wouldn't double back before continuing on.

It was a relief when she finally reach the Climate Wall. She took the express tunnel to Tundratown, the rain that had been lashing the cruiser cutting off as cleanly as a switch being flipped. Over the rumble of the engine, Judy could hear the strained hum of machinery as the Climate Wall struggled to keep the weather for Zootopia balanced as the storm carried on.

On the walkways that lined the sides of the tunnel, animals who had been caught out in the storm loitered around, waiting things out. Some chatted in small groups. Others stood apart, listening to music or playing on their phones, trying to get a signal. The dim lighting gave them the washed out sickly look of refuges escaping from some apocalyptic tragedy. But they all looked hale, if bored, and Judy didn't stop.

Without having to focus on getting her vehicle through the weather obstacle course that was blustering outside the tunnel, it was too easy for Judy's mind to slip back to thoughts of Nick. She couldn't stop worrying, theorizing, fearing what might have happened to him. He had left the Swift's residence after getting a lead on Robin's whereabouts. Now his phone was off and the GPS put him on top of one of the highest mountains in Tundratown. During a blizzard. Why? It was the lack of communication more than his location that scared her. He could be off doing a hundred things, but he should have let her know first. If he wasn't in some sort of trouble, he would have let her know.

Half a mile before the tunnel ended, Judy felt a chill start to creep into the cruiser. She turned up the heat and punched on the defroster just as the first snowflakes began drifting down and sticking to her windshield.

Up ahead, whiteness spread like ice across Judy's vision. It looked so solid, she feared for a moment that the tunnel had frozen over and she would crash into a wall of snow, broken and blocked and unable to help Nick or the Corsacs. But then her eyes adjusted and she saw the swirling gray fluff of low hanging storm clouds, and the bright green fringe of evergreen trees under their blankets of snow, and then she was out of the tunnel with a whole new kind of storm raging around her. But the way was clear and she hit the gas, going as fast as she dared on the ice slick road.

She turned onto Snowcastle Way and then up the long driveway lined with fir trees. A sign made from a huge chunk of chiseled granite let her know she had reached the Tundratown branch of the ZPD. Through the swirling snow ahead a building rose up like a cliff rising from the earth, and Judy had to collect herself when she realized she had actually taken her foot off the gas in her awe of the sight. She had expected something complimentary to the ZPD's main office, something similar in design but smaller in scale. A building made for support.

Tundratown's branch was nothing like that.

Part fortress, part palace, not one foot of its design lacked purpose or beauty. Thick stone walls reinforced with columns of ice made it not only impossible to penetrate, but impossible to scale. Elegant glass domes the color of the deepest ocean topped four turrets, one for every corner of the building. Each turret had multiple notch windows perfect for snipers and was covered in rose vines. Every part of the flower, from petal to stem, was a shining gray. Then Judy looked closer and saw that that was because the vines were made from some type of metal, knife sharp and intricate as an art piece. Any animal foolish enough to try and climb it would find themselves instantly sliced and bloody.

Judy pulled up to the front entrance and got out. Cold cut through her jacket as if it were cotton—because it was—and the wind tried to pull the scarf from her throat. She grabbed it and held on.

The oversized front doors appeared to be made of wood, but Judy suspected that if a herd of elephants tried to break them down, they'd all find themselves nursing headaches for the next several days. In jail. On each door was etched a full-sized bear on its hinds legs, paws spread and teeth bared in a snarl, while smaller animals took cover behind it. Judy found the depiction of the cowering bunny the first less-than-impressive thing about the place.

The front doors clicked and groaned, parting open just enough to give Judy a glimpse of marble floors and warm yellow firelight. A snow leopard appeared on the front steps. She had thick white fur dappled with black spots in an almost regal pattern across her face, with prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw. Natural black stripes underlined sapphire colored eyes that pinned Judy to the step.

"Officer Judy Hopps, I presume?"

"Yes," squeaked Judy. "Are you Commander Stelmaria? Clawhauser said he spoke with you about—"

"He did." The cat raised her chin. "I've spared all the officers I can to help you, but we have our own problems to deal with right now thanks to the storm."

"You're doing more than enough," said Judy. "I appreciate it. Really."

Commander Stelmaria clapped her paws together. Immediately, a mountain goat, a polar bear, and two arctic wolves appeared next to her. She gestured to the goat. "Officer Dill. Don't let the lazy eyes fool you, he's tough as rocks. He'll get you where you need to go."

The goat, unbothered by her description, smiled and waved a hoof at Judy. "Hello!"

"Hello," said Judy.

The commanded nodded at the polar bear. "This is Officer Eisbaer. In case you run into trouble out there, she's your bear."

The giant bear officer dipped her head in a silent hello to Judy. Judy did the same.

The wolves let out excited yips, shoving each other and snickering. The commander cleared her throat. They immediately went silent, dropping their heads, though they still kept bumping each other with their elbows.

"Officers Fang and Clawe. They're parents gave up on originality when it came to names by the time they came along, but they're good in a pinch. And they take orders well. Is that what you're wearing?"

Judy looked down at herself. "What? This? Well…" She had stopped off at her apartment on the way and changed into the heaviest clothes she owned. But now that she was outside, it didn't seem like near enough. She was already freezing, and they hadn't even gone anywhere yet.

"A tiny bit of fluff like you will turn into an ice cube in no time dressed like that. Officer Fang, get this rabbit some appropriate clothes. Maybe something from Ms. Mink."

"Yes, Commander." The wolf disappeared inside. As if by an invisible lead, his partner followed.

"I feel it's only right to tell you," said Judy. "I wasn't able to get in contact with Chief Bogo. He's out right now helping secure Little Rodentia from flooding. So this mission isn't exactly authorized…"

Commander Stelmaria sniffed, tail lashing against the steps. "Chief Bogo. Like that overgrown warthog has any real power over us. This is Tundratown. My say is what goes here. And if I want to supply aid to an officer that is my prerogative. Have you nailed down the location yet?"

Judy pulled out her phone. The signal was flickering, but so far she hadn't lost it yet. She showed it to the leopard.

"The mountains," murmured the leopard. "The storm will be worse there. Too dangerous to use a chopper. You'll have to stick to snow vehicles and hope you can find a way through. Officer Dill—"

The goat leapt over to join them. Commander Stelmaria handed him the phone. "Do what you can with that. Also find an ice case for it. This piece of plastic won't last in those mountains."

"Yes, Commander."

The wolves returned with a small pile of clothes. Judy swapped out her coat, slipped the pants on over her own for an additional layer, then added a hat, snow mask, and gloves as they were passed to her.

The Commander watched her dress with narrowed eyes. "You know, my officers have the location and they are well trained. You don't have to go out there with them if you don't care to."

Judy adjusted the strap of her mask. "Are you saying that because I'm a bunny?"

"No," said the leopard. "I've seen snowshoe hares who were twice as tough as wolves. But you will be out of your element, and the risk is unnecessary."

"With all due respect," said Judy. "My partner's out there. Not that I don't trust your officers, but I'm not going to leave him in someone else's paws. I will help get him back."

Commander Stelmaria said nothing, but there was a glint her in eyes Judy liked to think was grudging respect. Or maybe she was just thinking about all the extra paperwork she would have to fill out if Judy got herself killed in her district.

The snow vehicles were brought around. Officers Fang and Clawe both let out excited howls and made a dash for them. There were three vehicles in all. Officer Eisbaer had already claimed her own. It was the biggest of the three, and had a second compartment connected to it, very similar to a medical trailer. Officer Dill claimed the front vehicle, which had a decked out navigation system installed in the control panel. That left the wolves to share the last. They broke out into a furious but short tussle over who got to drive. Officer Fang won.

Officer Dill waved Judy over and handed her back her phone, now enclosed in a special cold-resistant case. "I have a route, but just in case, keep an eye on your GPS. If your partner's direction changes, let me know and we'll adjust accordingly."

"Got it." She hopped onto the seat behind him and, seeing the others putting on their snow masks, did the same.

From the front steps, Commander Stelmaria held up a paw. "Don't forget: Be smart, be strong, be successful." She bowed her head. "And be safe. Go."

They went.


Once they had made the decision to leave, Nick and Robin wasted no time. Together, they got everyone bundled up in every last stitch of clothing that they had. Nick even crumpled up the old newspaper and made everyone stuff some between their layers for added insulation. Then they got the Corsacs to the cart.

Todd had to be carried. Marian managed to walk, but only by leaning heavily against Robin. Reynard was the only one who made it under his own steam, though he was trembling and doubled over by the time he got there.

Nick then did a last check of the shack. He found two shovels of manageable size, and after a short internal debate decided to bring them along. The possible usefulness surpassed the added weight. He also grabbed a crumbled tarp. It was ratty and paint-splattered, but it would keep off the worst of the wet.

He lugged it all outside to their strange and defunct cart vehicle. Robin took the tarp while he secured the shovels. Marian watched with sad eyes as Robin carefully tucked the plastic covering around her and Todd's shoulders.

"Why are you h-here?"

Nick's head shot up at the sudden accusation, but Marian's question hadn't been directed at him. With a sympathetic glance over at Robin, he made his way to the front of the cart, both to check the brakes and gear shift, and to give them some privacy.

When Robin didn't respond, only folded the tarp more securely around her, Marian grabbed his paw, stopping him. She went on more fervently. "You shouldn't b-be here. I didn't want you involved in this."

At that, he gave her a small, crooked smile. "Ah, well, you know me. I was never able to mind my own business like I should."

Her grip on him tightened, her claws digging in, though neither of them could feel it. "That w-w-wasn't what I m-m-m-m—" She clamped her jaw shut as shivers wracked her, frustrated tears springing to her eyes. Robin saw and quickly made to wipe them away. But they had already frozen, breaking off like tiny icicles against his gloves.

"Shh. You can't afford to cry now, my darling," he murmured to her. "Wait until we get back, and then I promise you can tell me off as much as you want to, okay?"

"Y-y-you are s-so frustrating," was all she managed.

"A sentiment I wholly agree with," said Nick, coming back around. "But if you two could finish your little tiff after we get off this mountain?" He turned to Reynard, who had been leaning against the cart. "In you go."

"I'm helping push."

Nick shared a glance with Robin, who said, "You don't need to do that."

"It'll be waste of your remaining strength," added Nick.

"I d-don't care."

They stood there, facing off, Reynard gripping the side of the cart. Nick wasn't convinced that wasn't the only thing keeping the fox standing right now. But his chin was lifted, his jaw set, and his eyes dared Nick and Robin to make him get in.

"Fine," snapped Nick. "You want to tire yourself out pointlessly? Be my guest. But you stumble even once, you get in the cart. Agreed?"

Reynard gave him a tight nod.

"Then let's do this thing." He threw the cart into neutral, then took a place between Robin and Reynard. The better to keep an eye on both of them.

They started pushing.


Benjamin Cottontail—formerly known as Peter Hopson—paced his office with the constant exactness of a pendulum swing. He'd cross the front of his desk, taking exactly fifteen steps to the giant glass windows that made up the outside wall of his office, pause for a moment to ponder the storm, then, with a sharp turn on his heel, pace fifteen steps back.

He told himself that he should go, get some work done, plan out how he was going to minimize the damage when Judy returned to arrest him like she'd said she would. They both knew his punishment would be minimal, if he didn't escape it entirely, but it would still be bad press for him and by extension his company. He should be calling his lawyer, his board of investors, his most trusted employees, and letting them know what to expect over the next few days. But instead he was preoccupied to the point of distraction with thoughts of Judy, out in that storm, in Tundratown, searching for her partner and possibly Marty, though the idea of that was still so ridiculous Cottontail could hardly credit it.

He turned back to the window. Rain was a rippling sheet against the glass, giving the view of the city beyond a distorted, half-melted appearance. Only a handful of buildings still had electricity. They glowed in flickering bunches like fairy lanterns. Emergency vehicles weaved through the streets, red strobe lights reflecting off the flooded roadways like pulsing arteries.

Maybe he should have offered to help Judy, as a show of cooperation if nothing else. That way if a journalist asked, he could honestly say he was doing everything in his power to help the police. But he hadn't exactly been thinking clearly at the time. Judy had been in such a rush, and he had been feeling so upset and wrong-footed, he had barely caught her warning for him not to go anywhere before she had gone.

He turned away from the window. What was he so worried about? Judy was a smart and capable officer. She would have her own resources, and she knew her limits. Even if her partner was missing, she knew better than to endanger herself recklessly, didn't she?

There was a knock at the door. Squaring his shoulders, Cottontail called out permission for them to enter.

It was Arnie. "That bunny is back. Sir." It was said like a complaint.

Cottontail nodded. So this was it. Judy had finished her mission and returned to fulfill her promise of hauling him down to the ZPD. At least she had made it back okay. He hoped she remembered her promise to take him in discreetly.

"Show them up," he said.

Grabbing his suit jacket from off the back of his chair, Cottontail slipped it on and checked his tie in the small mirror behind his desk. Jail or no, he would not be taken in looking sloppy.

He started to take a seat behind his desk, but felt none of the usual power from the spot that he normally did. Instead, he moved to the set of meeting chairs. Humble. Equal. If she had brought reporters, it would make a better impression.

The door opened and Arnie waved the bunny in with an impatient hand. Cottontail had the fleeting thought that he was going to have to have another talk with the old armadillo about how to treat guests, but then he registered who had entered and forgot all about his rude employee. Because the bunny before him wasn't Judy.

It was Marty.

The bunny smiled at him, a strained, closed-lipped thing that didn't reach his eyes. Arnie closed the door with a snap behind him.

"Marty?"

"It's good to see you, friend." The bunny crossed the room and took a seat in the chair opposite. "Holding up under the storm all right?"

Cottontail could only stare at him dumbly.

Marty waved a paw. "I know. A stupid worry, right? As if a little bad weather could take down the mighty Cottontail Corporation. Not even the power dares to go out here."

"Generators," managed Cottontail.

Marty cocked his head at him. "Are you all right? You look a little…"

"Forgive me," said Cottontail. "I just didn't expect… what brings you here?"

"I came to return your truck," said Marty. "Well. Came to tell you where you can pick up your truck. The weather was a little too fierce for me to risk driving it over. But don't worry. I parked it somewhere safe and you should have no trouble retrieving it once the storm has tired itself out." He handed Cottontail a folded piece of paper. Cottontail took it with a clumsy paw, still feeling the surreality of the situation. What was going on? Had Marty spoke to Judy already? And if he had, then where was she? Why hadn't she come back yet?

He realized Marty was still waiting for some sort of response from him. A small frown had appeared between his heavy brow. Cottontail cleared his throat and struggled to focus on the conversation. "I appreciate the gesture. But why the sudden rush to return it? The truck, I mean. You could have waited until tomorrow, at least."

Marty looked down at his clasped paws. "Well, there's no point beating around the bush about it. And you deserve to know. You see... I have to get away for a little while."

"Get away?"

Marty nodded without looking up. "Until all this with Marian is over with. I'm not going to lie, it's been tough. Really tough. Unable to do anything but sit around and wait for news. And the news I do hear just keeps getting worse and worse. And everywhere I go, all I see is her. I can't stand it. I've got to get away. Until it's all over with, either way."

He wrung his paws together, looking for all the world like he might suddenly burst into tears, and Cottontail thought, Judy has it wrong. Marty loved Marian, as foolish as he was for it. He would never be involved like Judy was suspecting. Cottontail was more guilty than his friend was.

"I'm sorry," said Cottontail. "I've been so busy being concerned with how it's all been affecting me, I haven't really thought about how it must be for you. But you shouldn't give up hope. The Corsacs might still be alive, you know. The police might yet save them."

Marty peeked up at him from under his lashes. "I wish I had your optimism, friend. But as for myself, I just can't go on this way, waiting and hoping they'll find something. You'll call me, won't you? If you hear news?"

"Of course," said Cottontail. "But I still don't understand why you felt the need to come over during this awful weather. Surely you could have called about the truck, or texted me directions."

Marty's expression turned embarrassed. "Of course you'd notice that. In all honesty, there was another reason I came all the way down here. The truck was just an excuse. Besides wanting to say goodbye to you in person, I was hoping for one last favor, though I should be too ashamed to ask for it."

"Whatever you need," said Cottontail.

"Actually, I was hoping for a loan. For my trip."

"You spent all the money I gave you already?" Cottontail knew his tone was reproving, but it had been no small amount he had given his friend in repayment for his help all those years ago.

Marty winced. "I know. It's awful of me. But while I'm being honest, I might as well admit that I used that money to cover all of Grandpa Gregor's debts. I didn't want to worry you with this, but he hasn't been well these past couple years. It took everything you gave me to finally pay off the last of his medical bills."

"I had no idea."

"You had enough going on with your own mother. I didn't want to add to it," said Marty. "But now that I need to make a quick getaway, I find myself too short on funds to manage it."

"Of course I'll cover you," said Cottontail, rising and going over to his desk to retrieve his check book.

"Thank you," said Marty, and he seemed to be breathing easier now. He even managed a self-deprecating chuckle. "I feel so pathetic, asking you for more money so I can run away from my problems. I'm a terrible friend, aren't I?"

"Not at all," said Cottontail. "Everyone has their limits. The important thing is recognizing them so you can stop and react appropriately."

"Who knew moving to the country would make you so smart," joked Marty. He rose as well. "And I will pay you back, whether you want me to or not."

Cottontail just smiled. He tossed down the folded directions so he could grab a pen. "Would two grand tide you over?"

"More than," said Marty.

Cottontail paused. "I should tell you, the police stopped by here earlier. Officer Judy Hopps. She was looking for you. You didn't happen to run into her, did you?"

Marty looked up from the checkbook in surprise. "No. For me? Why?"

Cottontail made a dismissive gesture. "She had this crazy theory… But still, probably best if you clear things up with her before you leave."

"Yeah. I'll do that," said Marty.

Cottontail flipped open his checkbook. The draft caught the folded paper and sent it fluttering towards the edge of the desk. Cottontail snatched it up.

"Nice reflexes," said Marty. "So did Officer Hopps tell you what this crazy theory of hers was, by any chance?" He added quickly, "because if it could help us find Marian, I would be willing to do anything."

"Actually, it was—" Cottontail glanced down at the paper. He stopped.

"Was, what?" asked Marty. At the other bunny's continued silence, he raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Is my handwriting too messy? Can you not read it?"

"No, that's not… This is in Tundratown," said Cottontail.

"Yeah. I was helping a friend there move."

"What friend?"

Marty laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "Is that supposed to be a slam on my social life? I thought you were past those kinds of mean jokes? I do have other friends besides you, you know."

"I didn't—sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Refolding the paper, Cottontail set it aside and picked his pen back up. "How much did I say again?"

"Two thousand," said Marty.

"Right." Cottontail bent to write it. "You know, Officer Hopps said she would be back after she took care of some things. If you want to see her before you go, your best bet is to wait for her here."

"That's okay," said Marty. "I don't want to take up any more of your time. "I'll just stop by the station on my way."

"It's really no problem," said Cottontail. "I have nothing else planned for the day, and it would ease my mind to know you weren't out in this storm any longer than you had to be. It's dangerous, you know."

"Always so thoughtful," said Marty. "No one would ever guess what a bully you were as a teenager."

"I'm sorry?"

Marty held up his paws. "I kid, I kid. But seriously, you don't need to worry about me. I'll be fine."

Cottontail held out the check. Marty reached for it, but when he made to pull it away, Cottontail didn't let go. "I really think you should wait here."

Marty frowned. "Why are you being like this?"

"I'm not—" started Cottontail, but then had to stop when he realized how close to stuttering he was. "I'm just trying to help you. As a friend."

"Friend," echoed Marty.

"Yes."

"But friends don't suspect each other, do they?" asked Marty.

Cottontail's gaze snapped to his. "I—I don't know what you mean."

"Do you think I'm stupid, Peter?" Marty snatched the check from him. With his other paw, he drew a tranquilizer gun from his inside coat pocket."You might be good at putting on a front, but you're a terrible liar."

Cottontail raised his paws automatically. "Marty. What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He raised the weapon. "As I told that fox officer earlier, I have horrible aim. but even I can't miss point blank."

Cottontail hadn't even properly registered the sound of the shot before he felt the sting of it in his chest. He fell backwards against the desk, slipping to the floor a smoothly as the rain slipped down the windows outside.

"Thanks for the check. Friend," said Marty.


"The direction changed."

Judy had to shout to be heard above the wind, which had gone from a howl to a steady roar as they traveled north. She held her phone over Officer Dill's shoulder so he could see the screen. He slowed. Behind them, the other officers followed suit.

She pointed to the flickering carrot. Twice in the past hour, it had blinked out entirely, and both times Judy had felt as if her heart were disappearing with it. But it had come back, and though the signal wasn't great, it was holding, which was all they needed.

"See? The GPS was showing Nick heading south, southeast. But now he's heading due east. Why would he change direction like that? Surely heading south would be the quickest way down?"

"Off the top of my head, I can think of three possibilities for it," said Officer Dill, studying the screen through the frost-covered casing. "One, your partner reached some sort of impasse and is trying to find a way around it."

Judy could see how that might happen. "Okay. That doesn't sound too bad."

"Two. He might have gotten turned about in the storm and doesn't realize it."

That was more concerning, though she knew how easily it might've happened. After all, if it weren't for Officer Dill and his own tracking equipment, she would never have found her way this far.

"And the third possibility?" Judy asked.

The goat hesitated. "His path has been logical so far. Even with this change in direction, your partner's route is staying fairly straight. There's been no sudden turns or zig-zagging or doubling back, which you would normally see if it were, well…" He trailed off.

"If it were what?" said Judy.

"Hypothermia," the officer admitted. "Disorientation like that is a symptom of advanced hypothermia. But as I said, it doesn't appear to be that, so I wouldn't worry too much."

He readjusted his own GPS and handed Judy back her phone. They started forward again. Judy couldn't look away from her screen. Now every blink forward the carrot took, she questioned. Did Nick seem to be drifting left here? Was that turn too sharp, too sudden? She couldn't tell. The icon wouldn't zoom in enough.

When she finally tore her eyes away from her own screen to glance at Officer Dill's, she noticed something else troubling.

"The route we're taking now..." she started. "It's not very direct, is it? Shouldn't we be heading farther east, the way Nick's going?"

"We can't," said the goat. "Right now we're still heading up the base of the range, but not much farther and it splits into two separate mountains. We don't want to wind up on the wrong side."

"But Nick's headed that way."

"Soon enough he'll have to turn back, and we'll intercept him when he does."

"And if he doesn't?"

"He'll have to," said Officer Dill. "Because right now there's nothing ahead of him but a straight drop into Tudratown's biggest frozen lake."


Nick took it back. He hated Tundratown the most.

Tundratown took everything that was horrible about the Rainforest District—wet, messy, with hard to walk on surfaces—and then plunged the temperature down and added several layers of snow and ice. Just for fun.

He knew he was being unappreciative. Despite the terrible weather conditions, their way had been surprisingly clear. Sometimes they'd hit a patch of ice and the cart would slip and try to pull away from them. Or sometimes snow would pile up over the rails and they would have to stop and dig it out so they could pass—usually this happened at the bottom of steeper hills, or whenever the ground leveled out. But so far, they hadn't run into an impossible obstacle.

If there was one thing that was starting to give Nick pause, it was the steady increase in snowdrifts along the rail, and the slowly building but noticeable effort it took to keep the cart in motion, which until recently hadn't been a problem. It might have just been luck or fatigue catching up to them, but he had to wonder if it wasn't something else. Something less noticeable but equally troubling.

"Does the way s-seem a little… flat, to you?" he asked Robin.

Robin took a shuddering breath in and shook his head. Or maybe he was just shivering. Out in the elements, they were both rapidly catching up to the Corsacs in terms of frozenness. Neither could stop shivering or stuttering now, and Nick had half-jokingly told Marian to prepare herself in case they got so bad that she was forced to get out and push them instead.

"C-can't say," said Robin. "But it m-makes sense for whoever built this rail to take the easiest, quickest way down, doesn't it?"

"Easy and quick are not always the same," Nick pointed out.

Robin was undaunted. "We are still lower down than we were. Which means we're c-closer to town and rescue."

Nick had several arguments for that. But he thought Robin probably knew them already and was just ignoring them, so he let the fox keep the point, along with his optimism.

From under the tarp came a sudden, furious rustling. Nick looked at Robin and Reynard—who was still gamely pushing, though he seemed to be leaning against the vehicle and letting his weight do most of the work instead of actively shoving the cart forward—and by silent agreement they brought the cart to a stop.

Robin lifted the tarp, trying to keep the worst of the snow and wind from slipping under. Marian was struggling to hold on to a thrashing Todd, who seemed to be trying to get out of his coat, of all things.

"I c-can't get him to keep it on!" cried Marian. "He keeps saying he's hot. That can't be possible, c-can it?"

Reynard reached into to catch Todd by the arm. "Hey, buddy. You have to keep the coat on, okay?"

"Hot." The word was punctuated with a pained whine. He shoved at Marian, catching her in the chin, and she fell back with a yelp. Yanking down the zipper of his coat in one harsh motion, he lunged for the side of the cart, making the whole thing rock on its wheels. Nick cursed and clung to the vehicle while Robin caught the kit before he could make it onto the snow. He shoved him back and looked at Reynard. "You'll need to hold him."

Reynard climbed in with wobbly limbs. He sat and grabbed Todd, pulling him into his lap and wrapping his arms around him. Todd yelped and squirmed, but his older brother held strong.

"Marian, are you okay?" asked Robin.

Marian nodded, wide eyes locked on Todd.

They rearranged the tarp as best they could and continued on, but even the blizzard couldn't completely muffle the kit's cries.

Nick was hyper focused on the carrot he carried. He'd wrapped it in several layers of newspaper for added protection and then stuffed it into the only pocket he had with a zipper so he didn't have to worry about it falling out along the way and not realizing until it was too late. He wished he had a way to tell if it was working. If Judy was looking for it. If it was even capable of carrying a signal from this elevation. He kept going back to their decision to leave, and wondering if maybe they hadn't made the wrong choice. Maybe he should have convinced them to stay. Maybe they would have lasted longer. Maybe help would have come in time, and now he had doomed them all. If this kit died because he had made a bad decision...

Robin pointed a shaky paw ahead of them. "Do you see that?"

Nick shook his head, disturbed by how long it took him to find his tongue. "I c-can't see anything."

"Exactly."

"N-not the time for riddles, Swift."

Robin stopped pushing; so did Nick. After reassuring the Corsacs that they'd be right back, Nick followed Robin around the vehicle and farther down the track.

Nick didn't think it was possible to feel any colder, but stepping out from the shelter of the cart, he realized that wasn't true. The snow had gained weight and wetness as they'd been traveling, and the wind, as if spotting the opportunity, blasted them with all it had. The snow stuck to their clothes and exposed fur, sinking in and freezing to them. Was the change because they were lower down? Was the storm weakening, or worsening?

Robin grabbed Nick's shoulder, halting him. "S-see it now?" he asked.

Nick saw nothing. But then his frozen brain finally caught up and he realized that was the point. Ten feet ahead of them, the ground ended, dropping off into a gray nothingness concealed by mist-filled wind and swirling snow. But the rail continued, stretching out into the empty space until it too was swallowed up by the storm.

"Bridge?" guessed Robin.

Nick stepped forward carefully. There was nothing to it besides the track. It was just the rails and crossties. No safety barrier. No side path in case they broke down and needed to walk it. Nothing.

"It could t-take us across," said Robin.

"Or it could send us plummeting to our deaths," said Nick.

"Very negative."

Nick ground his teeth. "W-well it matches my temperature. Come on."

They returned to the cart and Robin filled in the Corsacs. The silence that followed his announcement was a heavy one. Nick could see their hopes falling as surely as if they had pushed them over the side of the cliff.

But the fact of the matter was—they had no choice. They couldn't go back. Nick and Robin didn't have the strength to push the cart back, uphill, against the storm. They were already weakening, the cold wearing them down slowly but steadily.

"Could we w-walk it?" asked Reynard.

Impossible. Todd was uncontrollable now, Marian wouldn't make it more than a few feet, and Reynard couldn't keep himself up without support. Even if Robin and Nick somehow managed to carry three foxes between them, they wouldn't get far. Off the rails, the snow was deep. They'd have no path, no way to ensure they were going in the right direction. And then there were other dangers, like hidden fissures and avalanches.

But Nick didn't have the breath to explain all that to him, so he just jerked his head in silent denial.

"Well," said Robin. "No point waiting around, I guess."

You made a stupid choice, thought Nick. You've killed them all, and yourself. Judy is going to write DUMB FOX on your tombstone, and you'll completely deserve it.

Slowly, Nick and Robin began pushing the cart forward. Nick knew when they had reached the bridge because the deep rumble of the cart beneath their feet turned into a hollow sort of vibration that made their frozen bones ache. The ground dropped away, and then it was just the cart balanced precariously on the rails, with Nick and Robin carefully picking their way along the crossties. But the structure held, and after a few heart-pounding moments, Nick began to think they might not plummet to their deaths after all.

However, the going was anything but smooth. The bridge was bumpy with rust, making the cart bounce and jerk as if they were pushing it over a layer of gravel. The only thing that kept it moving was the slick layer of ice that covered the rails. It kept their vehicle from getting stuck completely, but also made walking that much more treacherous.

Nick tried not to look down, but it was hard when he had to watch his steps so closely. Far, far below them, he could just make out the dark expanse of some body of water, intercut with jagged lines of ice were it had frozen, cracked open, then frozen again. From this height, it looked like an enormous slab of blue marble dusted with snow. Nick would have found it breathtaking if he hadn't been currently defying gravity in order to cross it.

Halfway across, the wind kicked up, not from the north this time, but from under the bridge like a geyser made of air. Nick and Robin braced as the cart rattled on its rails. The wind whooshed beneath the tarp, catching it from below and sending it snapping upwards. The plastic sheet was ripped from the Corsac's numb paws and exploded into the sky like the remnants of a popped balloon. Every head shot up in surprise. Every head but Todd's, who used the moment of distraction to make a break for it.

He lunged for the side, either oblivious or uncaring of the drop that awaited him beyond. His siblings both made desperate grabs for him. Reynard caught him by the hood of his jacket, Marian by his arm, but his momentum sent the three of them crashing into the side of the cart, and it lurched sideways with cracking groan. Nick felt the vehicle lift off it's right side wheels. It tipped sideways with horrific slowness, and he threw himself against the opposite side along with Robing in a rush to counterbalance it. At the same time, Marian and Reynard yanked Todd back. The three foxes fell heavily into the bottom of the vehicle, slamming it back down onto the track with a bone-jarring jolt.

Metal screeched. Beneath his feet, Nick felt the bridge give, bending under the weight of the cart and sending it shooting forward. The vehicle was yanked from his and Robin's paws, unbalancing them. Robin shouted as his foot came down wrong between the crossties. He toppled forward towards the edge, and Nick lunged for him, slipping across the icy rails as he struggled for traction. His paw came down on the back of the other fox's neck, and with no time to think he grabbed a fistful of fur and yanked. The sudden jerk made Nick lose his grip, and as Robin was thrown backwards onto the track Nick was pitched forward, arms pinwheeling for purchase that wasn't there to be found.

He felt the moment when gravity caught him. The world tipped sideways at an impossible degree and his stomach swooped. Sky replaced rails beneath his feet. And then he was falling, the bridge a fast-retreating strip of metal above him—and below, a beautiful sheet of blue marble rushing up to greet him.