Finding Meacham in the cargo hold was a shock. He was pretty beat up. Several broken bones and the beginning of a fever. I hoped there were priests with the reinforcements who could speed up the process. Otherwise he was looking at months of healing with the possibility of never regaining full function.

The rest of the cargo hold was hungry but otherwise safe. I shouted above to send down rations while I started to get ready to meet the greeting party. By this point our clothes were all getting pretty ragged. None of us had packed for winter weather so we’d had to wear multiple layers. And none of those layers had been washed regularly. And by this point I think I had dropped a stone in weight. So what clothes I did have were very loose. There wasn’t much I could have done to neaten up my appearance so after a quick trip to the loo I met up with Mr. Ferucci and Major Phillip as they started walking towards our rescuers.

As they exited the treeline I spotted Xola, Gorn and a human woman in shining chain mail with a massive long handled axe leading the pack. Xola sprinted up to give me an embrace. “The Wyverns took Meacham!” She screamed into my ear.

“He’s fine,” I said. “A bit banged up but he managed to get away before they ate him.”

“Thank God,” she shrieked in relief. As we spoke the rest of the delegation had come to within speaking distance. I noticed the human women with the giant axe taking a sip of sort of potion.

“Commander Paris of the Dragon’s Cleft militia,” she said bluntly.

“Anthony Furucci. I’m elected leader of this expedition. This is my chief of staff Major Phillip Reynold’s. And Melissa my executive assistant” Mr. Ferucci put his hand out. Instead of shaking it Paris grasped his forearm.

“Master Antony,” Paris said, “Once you hand over the negotiated trade goods we’ll give you your supplies and access to the pack goats. Be quick. I want to start moving before dawn. Getting caught on this side of the pass after it freezes over will be a death sentence.”

“Noted,” Mr Ferucci said. “Melissa, go get the phones. And tell people to start getting their bags together. We still need to determine the exact distribution of supplies. But the sooner we get things started the better.”

“Can Xola come help,” I asked. “It would be easier if someone familiar with the resources they brought helped me decide what we should prioritise.”

“Of course. I don’t think she’s needed here.” Major Phillip said.

I have to say I was not looking forward to the hike. I was fitter than I was before the crash; but that meant nothing when we had to march for several days across the wilderness. The only thing keeping me from a full blown panic attack was the distraction of arguing with idiots about how we were going to survive the next week.

The first stop was the infirmary. Dr Singh was too busy treating Meacham to talk. But luckily Jeremy had been an assistant long enough for me to be able to get a sense of how things were going. It was much easier talking to him than some random busy body.

“Are you sure the goats can be ridden? I don’t want to be stuck on a stretcher the whole trip.” Jeremy asked with a wry smile on his face.

“Eish. Of course they can. They’re about the same size as a pony. They can’t move as fast but we’re moving at walking speed anyway.” Xola said.

“Are the stretchers ready to go? And how are our stocks of medicine?” I interjected.

“The stretchers are good to go. Though I feel sorry for the buggers who have to carry them. Luckily I have an excuse,” Jeremy chuckled. “We’re almost out of medicine. “

“Gorn can help with the worst cases. And we have a few potions with us,” Xola added. “They’re reserved for the militia. But I think they might let us have them if we pay they them. It’ll be expensive but…”

At that point I heard a scream from behind an improvised curtain. Jeremy looked over and said, “That happens a lot. We’re out of painkillers and the doctors refuse to use alcohol to help with the pain if there’s blood or a risk of internal bleeding.”

“Eina,” Xola said. “I’m going to see if any of the witches or priests can help.”

As she ran off I told Jeremy to start prepping the patients for transport as soon as the doctors had time.

I then went down the aisles of the plane asking each group of passenger if they had separated what they could carry on the march and what needed to be stored on the pack goats. I reminded them that anything that couldn’t fit would be tossed. We needed room for food and other survival necessities. To the surprise of no one the complaints started immediately.

“This is ridiculous. I know these people are primitive but they should have brought carts.” One middle aged man in a rumpled suit said.

“I’m sorry sir. The council didn’t have a budget to build a road to the middle of nowhere. And carts would get stuck in the snow.” I replied.

“Don’t use that tone with me girl. When I was your age I’d have gotten a whooping if I treated an adult like that.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I guess I’m lucky to have been born in less primitive times.” I then left before the situation got more heated.

The next group included a pair of diabetics. Luckily they were type 2. According to my biology presentation on endocrine diseases I knew they weren’t facing a death sentence. Their pancreases’ produced insulin, unlike the much rarer type I, but their cells didn’t absorb the sugar in the blood as efficiently. So too many carbs meant sharp sugar molecules stayed around tearing up blood vessels and causing a lot of damage over time. Unluckily the elder of the pair hadn’t managed the diabetes very well and the feet were one of the earliest parts of the body to start breaking down. We wouldn’t need to waste a litter on her. But I hoped there’d be a spare pack goat for her to ride. Maybe a potion could have helped. Although I suspected we’d be rationing them quite heavily.

Maybe twenty minutes later I ran into Aaron carrying a bundle of wool and leather. “Mel, how are you holding up?” Aaron asked.

“Alright, “I said. “But I’m very busy. Do you need anything?”

“’I’ve got some of the new supplies. Do you need anything?” He asked.

“What did they bring?” I replied.

“Um. Blankets, leggings, a lot of jerky and hardtack. I’m not sure what else.” He said a bit hesitantly.

I groaned. “Keep it all in a central stockpile. Once we’ve got an inventory of everything we can hand stuff out to people who need it,” I said, trying my best to keep my breathing steady.

“Um, it’s a bit late for that. The goats have already been unloaded and there’s a huge line claiming stuff off of them.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, damn, shit!” I cursed. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Sorry,” he grimaced, “I don’t think anyone was organising anything. My dad and Reynolds went off to meet with their captain and people started going to grab stuff off the goats. No one stopped them.”

I started hyperventilating. “It’s going to be at least a week of hiking in the snow. If we run out before we get to safety we’re fucked. Go tell your father he needs to order people to hand stuff back in. I don’t care how important the meeting is. I still need to make sure the rest of the supplies are ready to be packed on the goats. If we’re leaving in the morning we’ll have to work overnight. “

“That’s ridiculous. You’re going to be dead on your feet in the morning.”

“I don’t think we have a choice. From what I’ve heard Gregor’s pass could freeze over tomorrow or it could freeze over in a month. We have to get through it as quick as possible just in case.”

I started feeling dizzy. “Please give me a sec. I need some fresh air.”

“Are you OK?” He looped worried.

“I’m fine. I’m used to it. I just need some space.” I hoped I wasn’t ruining things by being so blunt. I was starting to like him.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I get panic attacks all the time. I have breathing exercises to manage them but I need a few minutes of quiet.”

“Shit. Sorry. I hope you feel better soon.” He gave me a quick hug before running off.