The blizzard had started at some point during the night. Snow came down heavily, and continued into the morning. Troy stirred from a restless sleep to see the oversized flakes falling outside the window and layering on top of the mostly frozen snow from earlier that week. He still felt like he needed more sleep, even though he hadn't gone to bed too late. I have work to do, he thought as he moved to get up. He stopped when he felt something smooth shifting on his back, and sighed when a black shape appeared in the corner of his vision. "I have to get up, Anah," Troy murmured.

"You still sound very tired, dear," Anah replied.

"I am still tired."

"You had a rough night. Nobody would blame you for wanting to sleep a little more."

"I can't, though. Besides, I told Shauna to come over so we could talk about what happened."

Anah turned her head toward the window. "It does not look like anyone will be going anywhere in this weather." She slithered onto the nightstand, allowing Troy to sit upright.

"No, it doesn't." Troy sat facing the window, shoulders slumped. "I can wait."

Anah crawled up Troy's right arm to get to his shoulders. "You claim you can. In reality, this is killing you inside."

"Yeah, pretty much." Troy stood, letting Anah stay on him, and only moving her when he got dressed. She was back winding around his shoulders when he headed downstairs for breakfast, though a part of him was only interested in a cup of coffee and nothing else. He knew Anah would nag if he didn't eat, though it was difficult to find something he wanted to eat without much of an appetite. While searching the cabinets, he vaguely remembered, through the haze that had been his waking nightmare the day before, that he never had dinner. Troy gave a curious glance to Anah, wondering why she never pointed that out. He wondered if perhaps, for once, Anah didn't push because she knew how badly he was hurting, and that he didn't need her usual nonsense.

"Do you want me to make something?" Anah asked. "You seem indecisive."

"Can I be honest with you?" Troy said.

"Absolutely."

"I'm nervous. Very nervous."

"You do not admit that easily."

"No, I don't. I already know I'm not patient, and the fact that I have to sit here and wait out the weather for Shauna doesn't help."

Anah looked out the window. "Hopefully, this storm will not last long."

"You can't see how long it'll last?"

"No, but I will let you know if I do." Anah turned back to Troy. "I suppose we will have to keep your mind occupied today."

"Good luck," he said with a snort.

"I know you are nervous, but you do still need something in your system, dear," Anah said. "You have gone nearly twenty-four hours without eating."

"Well, I've done worse. A lot worse."

Anah fell silent. "I should not have said anything."

Troy didn't respond at first. He paced around the living room, occasionally looking out at the still-falling snow. Eventually, he paused. "Seven days. Seven days without proper food."

"That was how long Beckmann had you?"

"Yeah. Seven days. Six nights. I escaped on the seventh night. Still don't know how. I should've been recaptured. I always got recaptured. There was nothing special about that night. Somehow, though… I got clear."

Anah was quiet, choosing not to push.

Troy went into the kitchen to start his coffee. "I don't think telling you everything that happened is going to make the nightmares stop. I don't even remember everything that happened, but I know things I thought—or hoped—I forgot come back at the worst possible times."

"Perhaps discussing it will allow you to accept that it happened."

"It's not that I don't accept it. I know it happened. I just want to forget that it did."

"Memory is a strange thing. It is extremely powerful, more powerful than any magic. It is what makes and breaks everyone, and it takes great strength to control the memories that have broken you. You cannot hide from them, or run from them, because they will catch up. I warned you of that after Beckmann's arrest, remember?"

"I remember."

"It pained me to see you hurt. I still recall when Moffitt and Tully pulled up to the scene, when Beckmann accused you of having killed the officer in the sand, claiming that man was Beckmann. As you were coming around from having been knocked unconscious, I saw a torrent of raw pain running inside your mind, as if a high-pressure pipe had burst. It was clearer during the investigation. Being in the same tent as Beckmann caused you great discomfort. You wanted badly to run. Run and not look back. I wished that I could reach out to you, but you were locked away inside your own head. Later on, I mentioned it to Moffitt, and after overhearing our conversation, Hitch told me, 'Good luck with that. Sarge doesn't talk to anyone about what goes on in his head.' That just made me want to help you more, knowing you were suffering, and suffering alone."

"And I just didn't want to admit it."

"No, you did not."

There was silence aside from the coffee maker running. Troy watched every drop that fell into the pot, taking in the warm, perky scent that filled the kitchen, and feeling Anah's scales against the skin of his neck as she moved around, finding another place to get comfortable.

"If you are not comfortable telling me everything, I understand," Anah said.

"I will eventually," Troy replied. "Not now. I want to clear things up with Shauna first."

"What do you plan on doing until then?"

"I don't know. Not nothing. I can't do nothing."

"Perhaps a game," Anah suggested. "There are plenty of options."

"Can I trust you not to cheat?"

"You can, dear."

Troy sighed, figuring dealing with a potentially cheating Anah was far more entertaining than doing nothing. "Alright. You know how to play cribbage?"

"Of course. Moffitt and I used to play it together all the time."

There was a bit of a sad note in Anah's voice. Troy wondered if he had made a poor suggestion. "I take it you haven't since Vanora entered the picture?"

"Not by ourselves. I… do not mind having Vanora with us, but I do miss when it was just the two of us."

"Have you ever brought that up with Moffitt?"

"No. I do not want to make it seem like I want all of his attention on me."

"I know, but it wouldn't hurt for you to say that you want to spend time with him alone. You need to speak up or he'll never know you feel that way."

"I doubt I will be able to do so for a while, now that he is married."

Troy was tempted to say that Anah needed to say something if it bothered her that much, but then where did that leave him? He was just as bad at telling people he hurt as she was. For a moment, he pondered saying something for her when Moffitt came to bring her home, but something told him that it wasn't his place to butt into their business. Then again, he knew Moffitt wasn't doing this deliberately or with malicious intent. All he needed was a gentle reminder.

"I should not feel like that, though." Anah's voice interrupted Troy's thoughts.

"You're still his friend. There's no shame in just wanting to spend time with him," Troy said. "Would you… like me to talk to him for you?"

"It will make him feel guilty, and he does not process guilt well. He takes the blame and fall for everything, and I am struggling to break him out of that habit."

"I know." Troy took a deck of cards and a cribbage board from a cabinet under a bookshelf. "I won't say anything if you don't want me to, but my offer still stands."

Anah gave a bit of a sad laugh. "Why is it that we are both good at giving advice, but not very good at following it ourselves?"

Troy shrugged. "I wish I could answer that."

Anah was quiet while Troy set up the board and dealt the cards. "Where did you learn to play cribbage, dear?"

"David learned it at school. Taught it to me. We played pretty regularly, and even showed Dad. He enjoyed it." Troy tried to stay focused on the cards. "Really one of the few things we could actually bond over."

Anah levitated her cards in front of her, an invisible force holding them similarly to how someone's hands would. "Moffitt learned from his father. He mentioned to me once that it was something they did often while he was attending Cambridge, because it was a chance for them to discuss something other than the university or deserts."

"I thought Moffitt didn't particularly enjoy card games. He even said while he was telling us that story from when he was in the Scots Greys that he only played cards because his teammates enjoyed it."

"He does enjoy them on occasion. Playing cribbage with me or his father is definitely one of those occasions, as is Oh Hell with you all."

"Oh Hell gets cutthroat pretty fast," Troy said, grinning a little. "Too bad we can't play with just two people."

"Indeed, but even if we could, I would drive you mad." Anah finally smiled.

"I'd have to work on driving you mad first, then."

"Your brain is tough to keep up with at times."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

They played several rounds over the course of the next couple of hours. The wind began to howl outside, and snow battered the walls and windows. Troy couldn't see much of anything aside from a white cloud of whipping snow. "Well, this certainly came out of nowhere," he said.

"Looks like it," Anah replied. "Are you feeling hungry at all yet?"

"A little, actually. This was surprisingly fun. You're a good opponent."

"Thank you, dear." Anah slithered off into the kitchen.

Troy stood by the front window, an odd, nervous feeling starting to creep in his gut. He glanced back at Anah, and saw she was on the counter, looking at him.

"You sense it, too," she said.

"Sense what?" Troy asked.

"Something is not right."

"Yeah. Something's not right." Troy started putting his heaviest winter gear on. "Come on, Anah."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know." Troy waited for Anah to climb up and into his coat. He took his keys, and braced himself before opening the door and being blasted in the face with bitterly cold winds. Swiftly, he slammed the door shut behind him, and began making the trudge to his truck.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Anah shouted over the wind. She was tightly coiled around Troy's shoulders.

"Not really, but I feel like this is something I have to do! I'm going to need you to guide me when we're in the truck!"

"I have not even the slightest idea where we are going!"

"West! We're going west!" Troy continued fighting the wind until he got to his truck. He held the door tightly, not wanting the wind to slam it on his legs as he got in.

Anah poked her head out of his coat once the door was closed. "West?"

"Yeah. I don't know why. Something's telling me that there's trouble west."

"And you have to be involved with it?"

"Yes. I… feel like it has something to do with Shauna."

"Alright. I will guide you, dear."

Troy was cautious pulling out of the driveway, wary of wind and ice, and listening to Anah's every word to avoid sliding into the snow-covered grass. He knew this was extremely dangerous, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, and it involved Shauna. When has danger ever stopped me from doing something, though? he thought.

Once he was on the road, he found himself praying. The conditions were treacherous, and the fact that he couldn't see was beginning to trigger memories of when he was blinded in a German camp. As his breathing quickened, Anah coiled around him tighter. "You are alright, dear. Your vision is fine. Deep breaths. Relax. Focus."

Troy tried to focus, and attempted to switch to the mindset he had as commander of the Rat Patrol. This felt different, though. It wasn't Moffitt, or Hitch, or Tully he was trying to save. It was Shauna. I've saved my men countless times. I can save Shauna. It's no different. I care about them, and I care about her. I just care about her in a different way.

A strong gust of wind nearly knocked the truck off the road. Troy stayed calm, treating it no differently than being rocked around by the hot, sandy winds of North Africa, but he found himself wishing Hitch was driving instead.

"There is something on the side of the road ahead," Anah said. "Stop! It is Shauna's vehicle."

Troy hit the brakes. The truck slid, and eventually came to a stop. He braced himself again, and made sure Anah was tucked securely in his coat before opening the door and stepping out in the shrieking blizzard. He could see the dark shape of Shauna's truck, along with a telegraph pole lying on top of it. Snow and icy winds were rushing into the shattered windshield.

"Shauna!" Troy called. His voice barely penetrated the howling wind. He cursed to himself as he went around to the driver's side door.

Anah's snout poked out of Troy's scarf. "I sense she is hurt!"

"How bad?" Troy asked.

"I am not sure yet!"

"Can you unlock the door?"

"Already done!"

"Thanks." Troy threw open the door, still fighting the wind. "Shauna! Can you hear me?"

There was glass everywhere. Troy didn't want to think about what must have happened for Shauna to hit the telegraph pole like this. The roof was crushed by the pole, trapping Shauna inside and leaving no room for Troy to free her from her seatbelt. He could see blood on her jacket sleeves. "Anah, I can't reach her seatbelt."

"Got it," Anah replied.

"Okay. We gotta get her out of here."

"Be mindful of her left arm," Anah said.

"Broken?"

"Fractured, yes, and she was struck with glass and metal fragments. She is also extremely cold. She will need a hospital."

"You have healing capabilities, don't you?"

"Not for broken bones. I can stabilize her, but we need somewhere more secure and out of this weather. It is getting too cold, even for me."

"Are there any buildings near us?"

Anah looked around. "North, to your right. A church. We can take shelter there."

"Why shouldn't we just drive back home?"

"It is too dangerous now. I cannot account for everything, and we must get Shauna inside soon."

Troy usually wasn't one to defer to anyone in situations like this, but he wasn't a psychic cobra and couldn't see more than a foot out with how severe the whiteout was. He trusted Anah, and started trying to get Shauna out of her truck. "Any idea how long she's been unconscious?"

"No," Anah said. "Just go, Troy. We must get Shauna somewhere safe."

"Lead the way."

The whipping, freezing wind stung Troy's face as he struggled through the deep snow, carrying Shauna. Anah was holding tight to him inside his coat. She peeked out of his scarf and said, "Almost there, dear!"

Troy could faintly see the outline of the church as he kept walking. He couldn't move any faster than he already was, but he refused to stop. When he got to the door, Anah unlocked it, and Troy went in as quickly as he could, letting Anah close the door behind him.

There was no one inside the church aside from them. The large space was cold. Troy went to the first row of pews and sat down, holding Shauna close. "Okay, Anah, do what you can."

The cobra emerged from his coat, and wrapped herself around Shauna's left arm. Troy left them in search of the preacher's office, but as soon as he entered the office, he bit back a curse when he considered the possibility that making a phone call would be pointless. There were probably lines down all over Douglas. He still tried, and found it difficult not to swear aloud—he was in church after all—when nothing happened.

Cold had seeped into him, and he hugged himself while heading back down to the pew where he had left Anah and Shauna. "I can't call anyone," Troy said. "How is she?"

"I am trying my best," Anah replied. "This is taking a lot of energy out of me. I will have to keep both of you alive, and I do not know if I will be able to."

"Keep Shauna alive. Don't worry about me."

"Absolutely not. I will still try."

"I thought you were this immortal, all-powerful being."

"I am immortal, but I am not all-powerful. When my energy is expended, I must sleep, and that will leave you and Shauna with nothing for several hours. You both would die."

"I'm not injured, though. I can survive."

"You are at nearly thirty hours without food—"

"I've done worse!" Troy snapped. "Shauna's life is more important."

"You are part of the prophecy."

"I don't give a damn about the prophecy right now! I want her to live, and if that means I die, so be it!"

"Troy," Anah said in a low voice, "I am not going to let you die, no matter what."

"Damn it, Anah—"

"I am not going to let Shauna die, either. I cannot reveal to you, or anyone, what the prophecy entails, but your life is important. It is important because of Dietrich. Sit down. You and Shauna need to share body heat."

Reluctantly, Troy sat down, and held Shauna. "There's got to be something more we can do to keep her warm."

"There is not," Anah replied. She was completely exposed to the cold air while her tail was around Shauna's neck, and the front of her body was around Troy's.

Troy pulled off his scarf and began wrapping it around Anah. "Here. This should help."

"Thank you." Anah burrowed her head in Troy's coat.

Troy made sure both Anah and Shauna were as close to him as possible. He looked down at Shauna's red face. The fact that she was already unconscious wasn't promising, but he still held out hope. He kissed her cold forehead, trying not to think about the night before. "What were you doing on the road today?" Troy asked. "Please don't tell me you were trying to see me. I'm not worth your life."

There was movement under Shauna's eyelids. It took a few moments, but eventually her hazel eyes opened. "Sam?" she managed to say. "What… W-What happened?"

"I found your truck by the side of the road. You struck a telegraph pole and it trapped you in the vehicle when it collapsed."

"I v-vaguely remember that. It's… It's so cold, Sam."

"I know. What the hell were you thinking driving in this weather?"

"You wanted to talk about… what happened last night."

"No. No, that's not worth your life."

"I tried to call. Phone lines are down."

"Still. You could've waited it out."

"You were so upset last night. I didn't w-want to—"

"It doesn't matter, okay? It just… doesn't matter. We're stuck here until the storm passes."

"Are you angry?"

"No. I don't know what to feel… other than cold."

"What's around my neck?"

"It's just Anah." Troy hugged Shauna a little tighter, being mindful of her injured arm. "We'll make it out."

"Where are we?"

"At the church near where you crashed. It's too dangerous to drive anywhere." She's so cold, and she's not shivering anymore. That's not good.

"If we're just going to wait, I'm going to nap," Shauna said, her words beginning to slur.

"No. No, no, no, you're not going to sleep. You can't sleep."

"Why?"

"You're developing hypothermia. We both need to stay awake. I'll stay up with you. We can't let each other fall asleep."

"I'm exhausted, Sam."

"No. Stay awake. Stay awake." Troy leaned down to nuzzle Shauna's forehead. He clenched his fists, his hope giving way to a crushing feeling of helplessness. "Stay awake, sweetheart. Stay awake." He kept repeating that, even as a choking feeling crept up his throat. His eyes stung with tears, and his shivering worsened. "I love you." A sob escaped him, and he kept his forehead pressed against hers. "I love you so much, and I'm so sorry for not saying so when I knew it to be true. I'm sorry for pushing you away last night. I'm sorry for doubting you when you said you loved me. Damn it, I love you, too."

Shauna's voice was barely a whisper. "I love you, Sam."

Troy could see through his tears that Shauna's eyes were closing. "No, stay with me, Shauna. You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. Please, stay awake. We both have to stay awake." He looked over at the altar. If there was anyplace God was going to hear him, it had to be in a church. "Please, don't take her," Troy begged silently. "Please, don't take her. Take me instead."

He thought back to his nightmare with the German officer giving Troy the choice to have either Moffitt, Dietrich, or Shauna shot to let the other two go free, and Troy offered up himself in their place. "She doesn't deserve to die," Troy said, struggling to suppress another sob. "Spare her. Take me."

"You still… have a job to do, dear," Anah said, her voice weak. "You will not be taken."

Troy could feel Anah's grip on him losing strength. "Don't you fall asleep, too!"

"It is so very cold… I have… no energy… Please… let me rest."

"No! You have to stay awake, too, damn it!"

"I cannot do it, Troy. I must… I must rest."

"You're not sleeping! Moffitt's not going to be happy if we die!"

"Moffitt…" Anah drew in a breath. "Moffitt, my dear… the one I chose… forgive me."

Troy wasn't sure if Anah was even fully conscious. Her usually vibrant blue eyes were becoming duller and duller. "Don't go to sleep, Anah," Troy growled. "We need you!"

"I need… rest. I need… Moffitt." Anah's hold on Troy continued to weaken. "No energy… Troy… do not… do not cross the river. D-Do not cross… the river."

She lost strength. Her tail left Shauna's neck, and she hung lifelessly around Troy's neck. Her eyes were now completely black, as though she was an ordinary Egyptian cobra.

"No!" Troy shook Anah. "Don't sleep! Anah, please!"

He felt alone. The last time he felt so alone was when he was in Beckmann's camp. Don't think about what happened. Just don't. You have to be strong for Shauna and Anah. Just stay awake as long as you can. You have to. Stay awake for them.

Time passed. It began getting darker. Dark meant cold. Troy hung on, despite becoming aware of his own shivering stopping. "Stay conscious," he murmured to himself. "Keep talking. Keep talking. Just… anything to stay conscious." He looked down at Anah, seeing she was still out. "I don't want you coming back and finding us both dead. I know that'll hurt you. It'll hurt Moffitt. Tully. Hitch. Dietrich. Right. Dietrich. I gotta stay alive for Dietrich. Do you have any idea how crazy that would've sounded years ago?"

He found himself missing Dietrich in particular. He hoped the skinny German was doing alright, and he thought back to when they stood and talked outside of Moffitt's wedding reception not even a week ago, having a cigarette. "I'd give anything to have a cigarette right now," Troy said aloud. "At least it would keep me warm."

He alternated between gently massaging Anah and massaging Shauna, trying to keep them both warm. Shauna was still breathing, albeit faintly. Troy focused more on her, knowing Anah was just asleep and unable to actually die. Shauna was able to die, but Troy refused to let her.

His own strength was beginning to fade. The church was shrouded in darkness, but the winds outside were slowly beginning to die down. He started thinking about going outside and finding his truck. It was probably buried in snow, and he doubted he would have time to dig it out and get help before Shauna's hypothermia was irreversible. He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to doubt his own abilities to go out there.

"We won't last the night. If I go out there, we'll have a fighting chance." Troy was tired of talking to himself. He knew it was supposed to help keep him awake, but it made him feel like he really had fully gone nuts. "As if I'm not already nuts. I have a cobra draped around my neck. That cobra talks. She can't talk now." Troy lifted Anah's limp form, then gently lowered her. "Maybe I really am crazy and this is a dead cobra I've been carrying around. Maybe I'm already dead, but that can't be possible, because I haven't seen the river yet."

A dark thought crossed his mind. "Maybe I should go to the river. Maybe I can wait there. I can resist the temptation to cross. I know I can."

He stayed where he was, feeling more and more tired. His attempts to warm Shauna were getting weaker. His mind felt fuzzy, and his thoughts were starting to blur together into complete nonsense. "Don't cross the river, she said," he slurred. "Don't cross the damn river." His vision darkened. "Gotta stay awake… No, no, no, rest my eyes a bit. I can wake up. I can wake back up. I can… resist the temptation… to cross… river…"

Sleep beckoned him. It begged him. It promised warmth. A means of escape.

His grip on Shauna slackened. Darkness blotted out his vision, like someone spilled ink over it. All feelings of pain vanished, and Troy suddenly felt as though he was falling.

The air around him was warm. So pleasantly warm. The water was, too.

Troy opened his eyes to find himself standing knee-deep in the river. Instead of a temperate forest on the other side, there was a more tropical one, a symbol of something he so desperately craved. Warmth. Heat.

The pain of his hypothermia had melted away. He dipped his hands in the water. It was crystal-clear. The clarity, however, generated a memory that struck him with the force of a speeding jeep.

"Sam, I saw this beautiful river, with water so clear you can see all the colors of the pebbles at the bottom. There's a forest on the other side."

Dad. A slight discomfort came over Troy. No, I can resist. I won't cross. I know what happens when you get to the center—

His thoughts were interrupted by shouting. He turned to his right, seeing the ghostly figures of himself and Dietrich struggling in the water. Dietrich was crying out, "I want my suffering to end! I cannot go on like this!"

The water's clarity was tarnished with blood. Troy looked over his shoulder, and tried to back out of the river. When he got closer to the bank, the blood vanished. The forest suddenly changed back into the temperate one, and a figure stepped out from the bushes and shrubs. He recognized the harsh, lined face of his father, and felt clueless on what to do. One part of him felt defensive, yet another wanted him to stand tall and not show his discomfort.

He chose the latter.

"You still have a job to do, Sam," his father said. "You're not crossing the river."

Something snapped deep inside. "Is that all you have to say to me?!" Troy shouted. "No apologies? No asking how your own son is doing?!" Despite the effort, his discomfort was showing through.

"I've seen everything," his father replied, stepping closer to the bank of the river. "Make no mistake, it took me a long time to see just how wrong I had been about you, and I paid the price by watching you suffer in a war, unable to do anything."

"I'm having a hard time believing you," Troy said.

"What do I have to gain from lying to you?"

A female voice spoke up behind Troy. "Your father is telling the truth, dear."

Troy turned to see Anah in the grass by the riverbank. Her eyes were bright blue again. Troy never thought he would be relieved to see her. He got out of the river, and sat on the bank next to her. "What do you mean, he's telling the—"

"I mean exactly what I said," Anah interrupted.

Troy looked back over at his father. He gave a heavy sigh, then stood again. "What else do you have to say?"

"Your grandparents miss you, and David, but they understand it'll be a very long time until you're ready to cross," his father replied.

"You're not angry at me over abandoning Mom to enlist? Or not going to college?"

"I know why you did. I was angry in the beginning, and then I had to watch you be tortured. That was when I realized how much I regretted treating you so poorly. For that, I'm so sorry, Sam."

For a moment, Troy didn't want to accept, but he had Dietrich in his head. Troy remembered forgiving Dietrich, and how Dietrich forgave him. If I can forgive Dietrich, why can't I forgive my own father? Troy stared back across the river, and nodded a little. "I forgive you."

His father dipped his head, then faded into thin air. Troy watched in confusion, then turned to Anah. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now, you may rest, dear," Anah said.

Faintly, Troy could hear the voice of an older man saying, "They're right here! I came in this morning and found them like this! They are both still alive, but barely!"

Another man's voice, Sheriff Ayers, said, in a tone of shock, "Good gracious, Sam, what happened?"

We're being rescued, Troy thought. Relief flooded him, and he found himself collapsing into the soft grass.