TITLE: Falling Snow, Chapter 7/10
AUTHOR: Snark
E-MAIL: snark_911@yahoo.com
CLASSIFICATION: SA (Story, Angst) plus some UST
KEYWORDS: NONE
RATING: PG-13 
SPOILERS: This story is set before the Two Fathers/
One Son episodes. While there are no true pre-requisites 
for this story, allusions are made to at least the 
following episodes: Sleepless, Red Museum, Detour, 
Triangle, Shapes, Alpha, Bad Blood, Clyde Bruckman's 
Final Repose, and Tithonus. 
DISTRIBUTION: OK to forward to ATXC newsgroup and to
Gossamer. Please ask permission before archiving anywhere
else, please. Or at least let me know that you have 
archived it, so that I can keep track of where it's listed.
DISCLAIMER: The characters of The X-Files universe belong
to Chris Carter, the FOX network and 1013 Productions.
No infringement is intended and no money is being made by
the existence of this story. (Unfortunately.) However, 
the characters of Khi Shaolin and Mobaje are my own creation. 
These characters are not for use by any other fanfic author 
without my express, written consent.
FEEDBACK: Mail comments to snark_911@yahoo.com.
AUTHOR HOMEPAGE: http://www.smartania.com/snark/index.html
SUMMARY: Mulder, Scully and a mysterious woman from Mulder's
past crash in the snowy landscape of the Colorado winter. 









------------
Chapter 7
------------

For the first 15 minutes or so, Scully couldn't stop shivering. 
Mulder was unbelievably cold--she felt as though she were 
holding an enormous ice cube against her body. The only signs 
of life, of warmth, were the whisper of his exhaled breath across 
her breast and the quiet beating of his heart against her own. 

But as the minutes wore on, she could feel the warmth returning 
to his body. Her body heat, combined with the heat from the fire, 
were slowly having the desired effect. He was still cold against 
her, but she slowly stopped shaking--she had no doubt that he 
would soon be warmed to normal temperature.

"How you doing in there, Scully?" Khi asked after a while. 
Scully had heard her rummaging about the shelter, though she 
had been unable to determine what she was doing.

"All right, I think. He seems to be warming up slightly," she 
answered. 

"Do you feel comfortable being here by yourself, if I leave?" Khi 
said.

"Why, what are you doing?" Scully said, feeling a little panic rise 
in her throat at the thought of being left immobilized.

"We're going to need more wood before it's daylight--what's here 
won't last more than another hour or so," Khi responded. "It 
might be easiest to just do it now, before Mulder wakes up."

"How long will you be gone? And what happens if you get lost?" 
Scully knew she could never get out of the chute wrap without 
assistance.

"Trust me, I won't get lost," Khi said with a cryptic chuckle. "I'd 
be gone maybe a half hour, probably less. I won't go if you don't 
want me to. We can just wait until you're unwrapped and free."

Scully thought about it for a bit, gave herself time to analyze the 
situation rather than just react out of her fear. If Khi said they 
needed wood, then they needed it--she could assume that without 
a doubt. But if Khi got lost or killed, Scully would never get out 
of the chute alone. Of course, without Khi, I'll have little chance 
of survival whether I'm wrapped with Mulder or dancing the 
hornpipe, she thought pragmatically.

"Yeah, go ahead. I guess I'd rather try to make sure you're here 
when Mulder wakes up, just in case he goes into a frenzy again," 
Scully said.

"OK. I'm taking the knife with me, not that you'll be in a position 
to miss it anyway. I'll probably do as I did before--stack wood 
outside in repeated trips, then bring it all in at once. So don't get 
panicky if you hear anything outside," Khi warned. 

"Got it," Scully said. She felt a brush of very cold air gust 
through the chute opening and knew that Khi had removed the 
door of the shelter. "Be careful, don't get killed or something--if 
I'm going to die, I don't want it to be while I'm wrapped up like a 
sardine with Mulder."

"No, I'm sure you don't," Khi said softly as she went through the 
door, quickly sealing it up behind her.

Now what the hell did that mean, Scully thought, anger rising 
quickly in her mind. Does she think I *want* to die out here in 
the middle of a storm? That I want my last breath to be filled 
with smoke and the smell of nylon? My final sight to be that of a 
red and white parachute? 

But just as she prepared to launch into a mental rant and rave 
session, Scully realized what Khi had meant. She realized that 
Khi had already perceived what Scully was just beginning to 
accept. 

That if Scully were going to die, she *did* want it to be with 
Mulder. If her eyes were going to close for the last time, she 
wanted her last vision to be of him. As the feeling left her hands, 
her arms, her body, she wanted to know that he would be there 
next to her.

Her anger slowly wound down as she concentrated on Mulder's 
breathing, on his heartbeat, on the feel of his head resting on her 
arm. With the deliberateness of an experiment, she stopped 
thinking and started feeling. She felt how his breath danced 
across her skin, light as a spring rain. How his hair tickled 
against her collarbone, feathery and soft. How it felt good to be 
so close to him, to touch him, to hold him.

But even as the physical sensations themselves were enjoyable, 
she knew it was more than that. She knew that this physical 
closeness they shared now was simply a reflection of the union 
that already existed between them. That their souls were already 
entwined together as one. They shared a bond stronger than any 
she'd ever known--a bond cast in steel, forged with pain, 
tempered by faith.
 
A bond she knew had already survived her own death.

The memory of her abduction, of the tests, of the hospital swept 
through her as a wave crashes against the cliffs. Each one roared 
inside her mind, presenting itself as strongly as the actual event it 
represented--her body reacted as though it were under attack, her 
breath coming in gasps, her muscles locking into spasms. Several 
moments passed before she felt better, before her body began to 
return to normal. Mulder, even in unconsciousness, provided the 
anchor she needed to gain control.

She had never told anyone, not her mother, not her doctors, not 
even Mulder. She had not wanted to upset them, especially when 
she herself had not yet believed what she had experienced. They 
had all been so happy to see her alive and well, she couldn't tell 
them the truth.

She couldn't tell them she had died in that Georgetown hospital 
bed. Not 'nearly,' not 'almost'--she had died. Utterly and 
completely, she had left her body behind and began the journey 
to what lay beyond. Although she had not believed it at first, her 
latest encounter with her own mortality had proved it to her. As 
she had felt Death come for her again, in a room filled with 
cameras and film, she had known for certain it had happened 
before. 

This most recent time, Death had been turned away before 
reaching her, before closing his hand around her to lead her 
away. Someone had stepped between them, offering himself to 
Death with an eagerness usually reserved for Life. She had 
watched as he had stepped through the gateway, his face bearing 
the most beatific smile she had ever seen. She had thanked him 
as he disappeared--for intervening, for dying in her place, for 
giving her back the life she was not ready to lose.

But the first time had been different. As Death had touched her, 
as his cloak had fallen around her as they began to walk, she had 
somehow known there would be no intervention. She had known 
she should be afraid, but she hadn't been. Perhaps it had been her 
natural curiosity for the unknown, perhaps it had been a desire to 
escape the pain and torture of the last months, but she had not 
been afraid. Calm and peaceful, she had followed Death like a 
dutiful daughter.

As she had prepared to step across the threshold, though, she had 
hesitated. For the first time since Death had appeared to her, she 
had paused to look back. A flame had burned behind her, steady 
and strong against the darkness. She had been very far from it, 
but she felt its heat and was drawn to it. Mesmerized as it danced 
before her, she had felt its passion, its desire, its willingness to 
guide her path. As she had reached out to it, she had seen it 
reaching for her as well. They had touched, the flame encircling 
her hand as a glove. Instead of the searing sensation of being 
burned, she had felt only a comforting warmth, a sense of 
coming home.

But Death had not given up so easily. He, too, had reached for 
her, the icy cold of his hand a shock against the heat of the flame. 
Death had pulled her towards the gateway even as the flame had 
pulled her back the way she had come. A struggle had ensued, a 
battle of wills unlike any other she had ever witnessed. She had 
found herself paralyzed by the strength of the opponents as they 
fought.

In the war between the Light and the Dark, in the war for her 
very soul, she had been but a spectator.


     *    *    *    *    *    *
On and on, the battle had raged around her, over her, through her. 
She had found herself being pulled towards the gateway by 
Death, only to be brought back by the flame. The gentle warmth 
and light of the flame had warded off the shocking cold of 
Death's cloak over and over, until she could no longer keep track 
of the times.

She hadn't known how long the rivals had fought. Perhaps it had 
been a few seconds, a few minutes, a mere day. Or perhaps the 
earth had lived out its existence, plunged into the burning sun 
and been reborn anew. She simply had not known. 

She only knew she had slowly become aware of a silence. A 
hushed void had surrounded her senses where the wrath of the 
battle had been before. She had looked around her, slowly, 
silently. The flame was beside her, flickering weakly in the 
darkness as though nearly spent. Death had remained at her other 
side, his head dipped towards the floor as he pulled his cloak 
more tightly around his body. He had been shivering slightly. 

"You must choose."

Two voices speaking as one, giving life to the single thought that 
flowed between them. She had heard the weariness in both the 
booming voice of Death and the resonating murmur of the flame. 
They had fought with every ounce of their strength, testing 
themselves to the extreme in the battle. But it had been an 
exercise in futility--neither had possessed the strength to defeat 
the other completely.

So the choice had become hers. She would control her future at 
this moment as few ever had. The weight of the choice had lain 
heavy on her shoulders--she hadn't known what to do, hadn't 
known how to decide. She had implored the combatants to help 
her.

Acquiescing with a sweep of his arm, Death had shown her what 
lay beyond. Like leaves before a gentle wind, images of health 
and happiness had swirled around her. She had seen her father 
and smiled--she knew he would be waiting for her with open 
arms. Death had showed her that she had nothing to fear on the 
other side.

It had not occurred to her to distrust Death, to question the truth 
of what he presented. She had realized earlier he was only the 
emissary, a guide between the worlds of the living and the 
destinations of the dead. He served neither God nor the Devil--he 
simply existed, in this time and in this place, without motive or 
desire.

She had found herself tempted by the image Death presented, 
tempted to step through the gateway into the arms of her father. 
His passing had torn out a part of her heart, leaving behind a 
feeling of emptiness she could not have fathomed possible. It 
was a place that was empty still, and even though he had told her 
it was not yet time, she longed to be with him again. 

Before she could step towards gateway, though, the flame had 
begun to grow beside her, slowly at first but then ever 
quickening. It had moved up her arm, flowing across her chest 
and around her body as a second skin, its touch gentle and 
calming. It had offered no clear picture of the future, no images 
of what lay ahead for her should she return with it--beyond the 
light of the flame, she had seen nothing.

But she had felt everything. Love, hope, strength--they had flown 
through her like a river, washing away the doubt and indecision. 
Where confusion had reigned earlier, she felt only peace. She had 
known the flame was offering itself to her completely, promising 
her a way home, a way back to life. 

Promising her they would be together as one until such day as 
Death took them both.

"I choose Life."

She had not remembered actually speaking the words, but they 
had resonated around her as though she had screamed them. The 
flame unwrapped itself from her, freeing her body and clearing 
her vision without completely letting go of her. Though she had 
no recollection of movement, she had found herself following the 
flame back the way she had come. 

"So it shall be this time," Death had said, accepting her choice 
without malice, his voice resounding across the ever-increasing 
gap between them. "You shall be returned to Life as few ever 
have." 

As he had spoken, she had felt herself flow back into her body as 
though she were being poured--she had become aware of the 
blood coursing through her veins, racing through her heart, 
tingling in her fingertips. She had felt the stiff hospital bed 
beneath her, the large pillow cradling her neck, the cool air 
tickling her bare feet. And she had felt Mulder's head as it lay 
across her abdomen, holding her hand in his as he sobbed.

She had turned at the last second, casting one last look over the 
threshold. She had seen Death as if from far below, a small speck 
against the blackness above her as she looked through the void.

"You live again. But do not yet become fearless, my child," 
Death had warned, his voice reaching across the emptiness. He 
had stretched a hand towards her as the darkness consumed him 
completely.

"For I shall ever be waiting." 

     *    *    *    *    *    *

Scully shivered, knowing it had nothing to do with holding 
Mulder's freezing body against her own. Death's words echoed in 
her head, his image imprinted before her as she held her eyes 
tightly shut. For years, that image had come to her every night in 
dreams--she would awaken each morning whispering his words 
on her lips. 

The dreams had come less frequently in the last several months, 
though, and Scully had begun to hope they would disappear 
altogether. Her latest brush with death, though, had brought them 
screaming back to her. But they had changed somehow, become 
something more than what they were. Instead of seeing and 
feeling what had happened four years ago, she was now aware of 
a closeness in the present--she could actually feel Death himself 
at times now. She could feel the weight of his stare as she went 
about her life.

She could feel him right now, hovering at the edge of reality. 
Waiting for her time to come.

Well, that time isn't now, she thought firmly. Not for me, and not 
for Mulder. You hear me? You'll just have to wait a bit longer.

Scully opened her eyes, forced herself to look around as much as 
she could, listening to the night. The red and white stripes of the 
chute, the soft crackling of the fire, the smell of woodsmoke 
surrounding her--all served to bring her back to the present, to 
ground her in reality once again. 

She pulled her arm back slightly, feeling up underneath Mulder's 
chin for his pulse. She found it more quickly this time, noticing it 
was much stronger than it had been earlier. His breathing had 
become more regular as well, his chest rising and falling softly 
against her own. And he was not quite so deathly cold anymore, 
she smiled to herself. Still chilled, yes, but no longer icy. She 
knew that he was above the danger point now, knew that he was 
safe again--that knowledge warmed her more than any fire ever 
could. 

Scully attempted to shift her weight a bit, trying to flex the 
muscles of her legs and arms without disturbing Mulder too 
much. Her limbs were falling asleep from the sustained pressure 
and lack of motion. Even her tiny movements were bringing 
alive the pins-and-needles sensation she hated so much. She 
knew that it would only get worse, though, if she didn't work 
through it now. The tightly-wrapped chute restricted all but the 
barest of movement--but after several minutes of tensing and 
flexing her major muscle groups, she was able to restore normal 
feeling.

As Mulder continued to warm up, Scully felt herself getting more 
and more tired as the minutes wore on. Without Khi to talk to, 
and without the freedom to get up and move around, the 
temptation to simply fall asleep was becoming unbearable. But 
she didn't want to doze off until Khi returned--some survivalist 
node of her brain reminded her that someone should always be 
awake and on guard.

She tried a few mental puzzles, a few brain teasers that she could 
work through in her mind. She tried to remember some poetry 
and verse she had once known by heart. But thinking wasn't 
enough--she needed to *do* something to stay awake. The words 
"Jeremiah was a bullfrog" came screaming through her head so 
quickly she was surprised she hadn't felt a breeze. 

She knew she could simply talk to Mulder until Khi returned, 
that she didn't need to subject him (not to mention herself) to her 
rather dubious singing abilities. But Scully knew if she started 
talking, she'd never stop--she'd pour out every ounce of her 
feelings, leaving nothing to the imagination. She realized that 
when she said those things to Mulder, she wanted to say them 
when he was wide awake, not lying in a pain-filled haze of 
confusion--she knew she wanted those hazel eyes looking right at 
her.

"Well, Mulder, you had me do this once before, so here we go 
again," she murmured, dipping her head down to press a quick 
kiss to his head. "You survived it before, so I hope you can stand 
it again."

Slowly, Scully hummed the tune a little before beginning to sing 
outright. She smiled a bit as she sang the first verse a few times. 
She couldn't stop picturing a tiny lineup of woodland creatures 
outside the door, pressing their little ears against the shelter as 
the wondered what in the world was going on. She knew that 
every creature within 10 miles had burrowed itself to safety, but 
she couldn't shake the image.

"Hey, Scully."

The words were soft, feathery, barely audible even within the 
confines of the chute. But she heard them as if they had been 
spoken over a loudspeaker in a thundering auditorium--they were 
the sweetest words she'd ever heard. Her breath caught in her 
throat as she closed her eyes. 

"Yeah, Mulder?" she asked. Simple words, but she knew that 
Mulder heard the emotion behind them loud and clear. A tear 
rolled down her cheek as she tightened her arms around him--she 
didn't care whether she was being transparent or not. She only 
cared that he had returned to her.

"Sing the second verse this time," he whispered.

The second verse? Scully had to think about it for a few 
moments--what the hell is the second verse to that song, she 
wondered? All she could think of was the first line, over and 
over. Jeremiah was a bullfrog... She hummed the tune again, 
hoping it would prompt her memory.

It came to her suddenly, the words forming in her mind as she 
ran through the first verse. A real, full-throated laugh came 
rolling up from within her, spilling out across the shelter as she 
squeezed him close. Composing herself a bit, she just nodded her 
head, cleared her throat, and then launched into the second verse.

"If I were king of the world... tell you what I'd do... I'd throw 
away the cars and the bars..."

The third time through the song, Mulder said the words along 
with her, a smile quirking his face against her chest--a smile she 
knew was echoed on her own face. Raspy and weak, his voice 
was reduced to a halting whisper, a far cry from the usual 
sardonic inflection she was used to.

But it didn't matter--to her, it was the voice of an angel. 

     *    *    *    *    *    *

Ten minutes later, Scully heard the doorway being opened, a cold 
shot of air whistling through the shelter's interior. She heard 
sounds of dragging, punctuated by the occasional sotto voce 
curse, and knew Khi had returned. Scully felt another pine bough 
slide past her, and she hoped it was as piled with wood as the 
first one had been.

"You all right in there, Scully?" Khi asked as she wove the 
doorway shut again, knowing they needed to retain the fire's heat 
as much as possible.

"Actually, yes," Scully answered, wondering if Khi could hear 
the smile planted firmly on her face. "Mulder's awake."

"Whoo hoo! That's fabulous," Khi yelled. "That true, Zippy? You 
alive in there?"

"Yeah, I'm alive," Mulder said, his voice rising a little to be 
heard. "No thanks to you, though. 'Let's go parachuting... It'll be 
fun... Girl Scouts could do it!'" Scully and Khi both laughed--
even with his weakened voice, his impersonation of her 
'recruiting' speech was perfect.

"Yeah, whatever, shut up," Khi said, eliciting a muffled laugh 
from Mulder this time. "Is it my fault that we got hit by a 
hailstorm in the middle of the winter?"

"Yes!" Mulder and Scully chorused together, sending all three 
chuckling again.

"Whine, whine, whine..." Khi mumbled as she stepped over to 
kneel down next to them. "Seriously, now. How are you feeling, 
Mulder? Warm, cold, dizzy, light-headed, nauseous, rib pain, 
trouble breathing, any and all of the above?"

"Weak, mostly," Mulder said. Scully could feel him trying to 
shift his weight a little bit, realizing he must be even more 
cramped than she was. "And thirsty."

"You feeling warm enough to get out of there? I mean, I know it 
must be uncomfortable for you to be wrapped up with Scully like 
that," Khi said, not quite hiding the humor from her voice. 

"Oh yeah, utter hell," Mulder said in perfect seriousness, 
exasperated sighs and all. "I mean, I'm all smashed in here with 
her, she's got her arms wrapped around me, she's breathing all 
over me... I just may have to sue you for extreme abuse, Khi." 
Scully felt his hand move against her, the gentle play of his 
fingers against her hip offsetting the mock harshness of his 
words. She smiled as she quickly ran her hand through his hair.

"Let's hope you get the chance, my friend," Khi said after a short 
chuckle, bringing her hand down to rest briefly on Mulder's back. 
They were all quiet for a moment, a prayer formed between 
them, unspoken but audible nonetheless. "OK, enough of that 
crap, let's get you guys out of there."

The process was easier said than done this time around. Mulder 
being conscious added a new twist to everything--each 
movement, no matter how slight, sent sharp pain shooting 
through him. After just a few moments, Mulder told Khi to just 
do it. "Rip the bandage off in one swipe," he said, breathless 
from the pain he'd endured so far. "At worst, I'll just pass out 
again."

"OK, then," Khi said. "Scully, we're going to do this exactly in 
reverse, then. You remember the sequence?" Khi had succeeded 
so far only in untying the straps and beginning to unwrap the 
chute from around their bodies--she couldn't yet see Scully or 
Mulder themselves yet.

"Chute off, tip up, clothes and suits unwrapped, sweater off, 
separate off of Mulder, clothes back on," Scully recited 
succinctly.

"You got it. Now let me get you guys situated a little better, since 
we're paused anyway," Khi said. Scully felt the chute being 
dragged away from the fire a little bit more, allowing Khi better 
access to them and more room in which to work.

"Set?" she asked, tapping Scully's shoulder. Scully queried 
Mulder if he was ready, his reply a simple nodding of his head. 
She actually felt his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth against the 
coming pain. 

"We're set," Scully replied, giving Mulder a quick squeeze in 
support. "Do it."

To his credit, Mulder screamed outright only once during the 
next sixty seconds, right after the chute fell away from them--as 
Khi tipped them up from the ground, Scully's foot smacked into 
his injured leg as she tried to resume the sitting position in which 
they had started. Scully cursed herself for being so clumsy, 
resolving to concentrate even harder as Khi continued to work. 
She felt the remainder of the tie straps fall away, watching as Khi 
quickly separated out Scully's clothing from Mulder's as she 
unwrapped each layer.

"Arms up now, Scully," Khi said. "I'm bracing Mulder from the 
other side here."

As she reached her arms towards the roof, Scully felt the green 
sweater being lifted from her body. She felt the goosebumps 
crawl over her again as her skin was exposed, but it was nowhere 
near the shock it had been the first time--the fire had been 
burning long enough to actually heat the interior somewhat. 

Her arms finally free of the sweater, Scully wasted no time 
pushing back from Mulder and scooting free of him. She didn't 
want to risk jostling him as she dressed herself. A quick glance 
confirmed the pain he must have been feeling--his eyes were 
pressed shut as his breath came in gasps, his fists clenched as Khi 
threaded his arms back through his clothing and suit.

"Done," Khi announced a few moments later, zipping the front of 
Mulder's suit as best she could. The lower portion of the suit 
torso had been mostly sliced away earlier, but she was able to 
rehook the zipper somehow and zip it up. 

"Well, that sucked," Mulder moaned after a few seconds, eyes 
still shut. Khi helped him lie back down, rolling an edge of the 
chute under his head as a mock pillow. She handed him his 
gloves, knowing he would need every source of warmth possible. 

"Scully, we'll need to do the same trick for him that we used for 
you," Khi said, motioning her over as she saw Scully zipping her 
own jump suit. "Find that cylinder and help Mulder drink some 
of the heated water. Even conscious, he's not going to be able to 
move as much as you or me, so he's going to need to generate 
heat from other sources."

Finally finding the cylinder against the far wall, Scully dipped it 
into the bowl, rinsing it out a bit before scooping up a full 
complement of water. She paused to add more snow to the bowl, 
wanting to keep a steady source of hot water available at all 
times. She knew they would have to change Mulder's bandages 
every few hours, needing to cleanse the wound each time.

Wanting to reach the bowl without getting up, Scully 
repositioned the chute a bit, dragging Mulder a few feet further 
'down' the shelter as gently as she could. She then prompted him 
to sit up a bit, slipping her leg underneath his shoulders and 
pulling him up onto her lap slightly. He reached for the cylinder, 
but she gently pushed his hands away, murmuring for him to just 
lie still. She brought the cylinder to his lips, slowly tipping it up 
as he drank, making sure she wasn't rushing him too much. 
Mulder indicated he wanted more, so she stretched to refill the 
cylinder again. This time, she somehow spilled a little of the 
water as she brought it up, trickling the water down his chin. She 
wiped it away with a gentle finger--if she stroked his face a few 
more times than was necessary, he didn't seem to mind. 

After the third refill, Mulder motioned that he was through for 
now. Scully set the cylinder down by the fire, not wanting to lose 
track of it this time. After a few minutes, she could tell he was 
getting sleepy, his breathing slowing and his bodying becoming 
still. She started to slip out from underneath him, figuring it was 
an uncomfortable position for him.

"Stay." Mulder crossed his hand over his body and laid it on hers. 
His eyes opened for the first time since they'd gotten out of the 
chute. "Stay with me for a little bit, Scully," he whispered, 
looking up at her. 

"Only for a little while?" she teased him, shifting her body just a 
little to reposition him more comfortably.

"For as long as you like, my lady," Mulder said quietly, his eyes 
fluttering closed as a small smile crossed his face. He was soon 
fast asleep, his hand still covering hers.

Scully watched him sleep for a long time. She brushed his hair 
off his forehead, smiling each time as it fell right back across his 
eyes. Leaning over him, she laid a gentle kiss on his forehead. I 
hope you meant that, Mulder, she said to herself. 

Because I'm going to stay forever.

     *    *    *    *    *    *

As the night wore on and became day, Scully and Khi took turns 
remaining awake, each catching an hour or so of sleep while the 
other tended the fire and kept watch. Khi cautioned Scully to 
make sure Mulder was awakened at least once every hour or so.

"He's still weak and dehydrated," Khi explained. "He needs that 
water not only to help stay warm but to get his system back in 
balance. Plus, I want to make sure that he *can* be woken up 
every few hours, that he doesn't fall into a coma or hypothermic 
trance state."

Scully checked his bandages several times, doing a complete 
change in the wee hours of the morning. The lack of really good 
light made a detailed inspection impossible, but she couldn't see 
any signs of infection--whatever initial bleeding there may have 
been had stopped. She had Khi make another birch bowl, using it 
to heat more water and wash out the bandages as best she could. 
She kept the other bowl for drinking purposes only, not wanting 
to risk any contamination.

When dawn arrived, Khi ventured outside again to search for 
more wood--their supply had dwindled to just a few branches. 
When she returned, Scully was somewhat nervous to see a much 
smaller pile of wood on her sled bough than previous trips. 

"It's getting harder to find wood," Khi said simply. "It's still 
snowing heavily out there, although the wind has died down 
considerably. That's a good sign, if nothing else--the worst of the 
actual storm is most likely over."

"But the wood... what do we do about that?" Scully asked, trying 
to keep the anxiousness from showing in her voice. Khi didn't 
answer for a minute, poking the fire up a bit, adding a few more 
pieces to it. 

"There's not much we can do. The snow is blanketing new inches 
every hour, covering up absolutely everything. We can either 
find the wood or we can't. If we can, we'll be fine for quite a 
while. If we can't..." she trailed off. She knew there was no need 
to state the obvious.

"What about food, is there any possibility of finding anything to 
eat?" Scully asked. She looked over at Mulder, who still 
appeared to be sleeping peacefully. "More than either of us, he 
should really have something to eat soon. His blood needs energy 
to combat the volume loss."

"He's not going to get any food for a while," Khi said. She's 
nothing if not direct, Scully thought with a sigh. "I can make 
snare traps, but they're not going to do any good--forest creatures 
aren't going to stir until the snow stops. There's no streams 
nearby to fish in and my pack doesn't have any food supplies in 
it, only survival equipment."

"So what do we do?" Scully asked after a moment. 

"We survive," Khi said simply. Glancing at Scully's side, she 
motioned for Scully to toss her the knife. "We can survive as 
long as we have heat. Water alone will sustain us for at least a 
week, probably two, and someone would find us by then."

Khi began cutting a few strips from the edge of the chute. She 
made sure to leave enough for Mulder to use as a blanket, but 
soon had a sizable pile of thick strips of the red and white 
material by her side. 

"The problem will be if the fire dies. Without the heat, we'll 
survive for a few hours, a half-day at most," Khi said, gathering 
together the strips and putting them in the pack. "There's a 
clearing not too far from here. I'm going to weave these into a 
couple branches and post them in that clearing--when the snow 
quits, it will provide a visual signal to anyone searching by air."

Khi caught sight of Scully's rather dubious expression, giving a 
short, mirthless laugh as she zipped up the pack. "I know it's not 
a great solution, but we don't have many options. The snow's too 
deep for even a healthy person to try to track through, much less 
someone with an injury. The travois wouldn't work nearly as well 
now either--the angle would be wrong because of the extra 
snow."

"Plus, we don't have any idea which way to go," Mulder said 
quietly. Scully and Khi both turned to look at him, surprised to 
find him awake. He waved off their attempts to help him sit up, 
propping himself up under his own power while mumbling 
something about not being a child. He did have to ask for the 
cylinder of water though, since he was unable to reach the fire 
himself. Khi, seeing that Scully was taking care of Mulder's 
request, headed for the doorway, strapping the pack to her back. 
She unsealed the pine bough to open up the exit and leaned down 
to begin crawling through the opening.

"Where's that... um, what was the word?" Mulder said to Scully 
as Khi worked her way outside. He had to pause for a second, 
replaying their conversation with Mobaje... had it only been 
yesterday? So much had happened since then, it seemed like 
years had passed. "Where's an ut'aari when you need one? We 
could use a hawk about now."

Khi closed up the entryway again, making sure the edges were 
woven securely into the shelter. She paused to look up at the sky, 
searching.

"He's coming," she said, closing her eyes against the falling 
snow. After a moment, she turned and headed for the clearing.


      *** 30 *********  Section End  *********** 30 ***
 

Continued in Section Eight, Chapter 8/10...

http://members.tripod.com/~koosn/falling_snow-8.txt