CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-FIVE - AVALANCHE ESCAPE

They sat like that for a long time, drawing comfort and strength from each other's presence. The fire slowly died down to embers, casting a soft, warm glow over their intertwined figures. It was well past midnight when Freya and Arryk finally returned to camp. They came from different directions but arrived almost simultaneously, as if drawn back by some unseen force. Both looked tired and somewhat chastened, but the anger that had driven them apart earlier seemed to have dissipated. They exchanged a long look, volumes of unspoken words passing between them. Finally, Arryk broke the silence. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I shouldn't have..." Freya shook her head, cutting him off. "No, I'm sorry. You were right. We need your experience to get through this alive." A ghost of a smile flickered across Arryk's face. "Maybe. But we need your instincts too. Your courage. I couldn't do this without you, Freya. I hope you know that." Freya's expression softened, a warmth entering her eyes