No one should have to chase poachers in the middle of winter. It is the season where any animal still alive is cozily huddled up in their burrow or otherwise taking life easy. Any self-respecting human would follow their example.

I, on the other hand, was currently stumbling in a snowdrift, chasing a man with a gun through these godforsaken woods. Allow me to back up a little and explain why. I’ll keep it quick, I promise.

The Lovansay Institute is set right in the middle of a nature reserve, about five hours’ drive out of the City and in an area meshed between a forest and a swamp. Apparently, this kind of environment is pretty unique this far up north. As such, it houses hundreds of rare and fascinating critters, many of whom can’t be found anywhere else. All of them made their home in a nature reserve ‘full of glittering rivers, festive fields filled with flowers, and awe-inspiring forests’ - at least, according to the Institute’s booklet. I can’t say I could speak from experience. I did get an invite for a trip out here about a year ago, but Kilkey’s Speakeasy was having their Happy Week with extra margaritas and, well…

Point is, anywhere you find something truly special, you’re going to find people who want to own it. Most of the poachers tended to conduct their raids in the summer, but it turns out a flock of Hilloughby buntings (man, I wish I could come up with these names)had settled over here last winter. The same buntings whose feathers can fetch up to a hundred bucks each. Which meant that this year, the poachers showed up in droves during the very season where the park was most shorthanded.

Ryan had been hired to figure things out from the other side of the security breach. Find who was smuggling these feathers on the black market, and identify the people who were delivering them there. My brother had followed that little trail of breadcrumbs to an anonymous online forum. One page had listed both a time and place for an impromptu and unauthorized hunting expedition. We tried to set a trap, but without enough rangers on hand to actually fence them in, they all ended up scattering.

So, yes. This is how I ended up running across a snowy white field after one of said poachers. I’d picked out this one because he was wearing a bright orange jacket, and someone that stupid clearly couldn’t pose much of a challenge to chase. The forest we’d just passed through had been dark and actually quite peaceful, with dappled sunrays passing through evergreen branches and the winter breeze rustling through each one. Out here, though? The sun was growing brighter by the second, the white fields almost glowing under the glare. I’d never understood why skiers wore reflective visors until now. But if this asshole thought running in the direction of the sunrise would be enough to shake me off, he had another thing coming.

I heard a voice behind me yelling something, but by now I was way too far out to make out the words. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the pace, throwing up snow around my legs as I ran. The ground had grown smoother and easier to grip, with fewer stones or knotting branches hidden under the snow. This piece of news was not as good as it sounded.

For one thing, my target made up for his brain-dead fashion choices with a cheetah’s sprinting skills. I was already losing ground and fast, each breath rattling around my chest as I ran out of stamina. Part of me seriously considered trying to shoot him - in the arm or something, I assure you - but with the sun in my eyes there was just too much room for error.

The shouts behind me had grown louder, but I still couldn’t figure out what they were trying to tell me. This was coupled with the realization that the ground I was running on wasn’t just smooth underneath the snow. It felt weird. Almost… slippery?

I tried to stop immediately, skidding on the ice as I lost my balance. It probably looked pretty stupid, and also probably saved my life. I could feel the ground shifting beneath my feet. The man in front of me fell, right at the same time the ice crumbled under me.

I went through the surface of the lake, the splash thunder in my ears. The water itself felt more like liquid nitrogen, cold enough my heart almost stopped with the shock alone. The numbness spread across my skin, then went deeper. A bitter, biting pain came at its heels. I flailed, grabbing for the edge of the ice, with a rush of relief as my gloves caught something solid.

I couldn’t see anything. I should’ve been able to see the sky through the hole my body had made, but it was as if my eyeballs themselves were frosting over. You’ve got a grip, don’t you Dylan? Now just pull yourself up. It’s easy, like doing a pull-up at the gym. Because you’ve always done so well at those, haven’t you?

But I did try. I’ll give myself that much. My muscles strained, burning with effort despite the cold, but it wouldn’t be enough. Hell, I could even feel my grip loosening, my lungs screaming for air.

I really don’t recall what happened after that. Had to have been pulled out and covered in blankets and somehow kept alive, and I must’ve been conscious for at least some of it. Going to sleep at that moment, I’m told, would’ve been a death setence. But these things warp together, you know. The cold and the numbness creeping over every moment. I’m trying right now, and it’s impossible to remember anything else.

*

It was worse than merely waking up in sweat. I was marinating in it, feeling its remnants dried up and sticking my clothes to my body even as new droplets flowed down my forehead. Despite the sweltering warmth, my fingers and legs were dead and numb, and I could still feel myself shivering. It didn’t seem fair, getting the worst of both worlds.

I opened my eyes, blinking furiously against the light, then turned my head with a groan. “Ow,” I muttered, “somebody turn that down.”

“Just a minute.” I felt a callused, gentle hand touch my forehead lightly and pull away. “Damn, you’re burning like a furnace down there. Well, kiddo, it’s good to see you’re awake. You got a pretty bad fever after you were all warmed up. so bad I’m thinking you must’ve gotten infected with something. But whatever it was, your body’s doing a great job at fighting it. It was a little touch and go with you for a while, but you’re firmly on the mend now.”

I opened my eyes again, and this time forced them to stay open. A man was looking down at me with round spectacles, a reddish, fleshy face and wiry grey eyebrows. Another face joined him a few seconds later, and Ryan reached down to turn what I now realized what a heat lamp closer to me.

“Ow.” I muttered again. “Not cold anymore. Not that much.” Although to be honest my body’s temperature was still pretty wildly out of whack at this point.

“Sure you are.” He said, adjusting the lamp to be a little brighter. “Doctor Grodin, should we take him to a hospital?”

“Hmm.” The doctor rubbed the shiny white stubble around his chin. “I mean, it’s long a way for an ambulance to go… and I’ve got all the antibiotics he’ll need right here. I’m leaning towards no. Let him rest here for a few days, see how things play out from there. I told you what you should be doing before. Keep him near a heat source, make sure he’s hydrated and takes the right pills at the right time. All things going well, he should be up and at ’em in a week or so.”

“Good to hear it, doc.” I said, though he was already out of the room before I finished my sentence. Rolling to the side, I tried to sit up. An invisible drill on my forehead began spinning its way into my skull. A strangled noise came out of my mouth, and I flopped back onto the sheets. “Urgh. What happened with the poachers?”

Ryan winced. “The guy you were following ended up worse than you did, but he’ll probably pull through as well. Two people in the group managed to escape from the woods completely. Mostly cause we had to call in more people to help fish you out. Hell, Dy, you were so frozen we were scared to move you. We tried to warm you up in one of the ranger outposts every way we could think of. We were lucky Dr. Grodin was close enough to come treat you. The man’s a specialist in this kind of treatment. He’s the one who recommended bringing you here after you had stabilized a bit.”

“Ah.” I said. “I should probably thank the guy, shouldn’t I? And, um… I’m sorry you couldn’t catch those last two poachers.”

“It’s not too bad. We did get their faces on camera. They got picked up by the rangers a few hours ago. About a day and a half has passed already, by the way.” He sounded mildly miffed, as if disappointed I hadn’t remembered to ask the question.

“Uh huh. Okay, so did we get the birds?” By the time we’d initiated the ambush, the poachers had already managed to shoot down a few. I’d actually seen a carcass clutched in a poacher’s hand at the time. It had been strange to see so little blood. Of course, they’d taken pains not to ruin the plumage, even using special long darts instead of bullets.

It wasn’t that it I’d been squeamish about the scene. You couldn’t be more wrong, actually. It was just that there was something that unsettled me more about such a delicate, almost loving act of killing.

Ryan closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. “We didn’t find the buntings, no. The rangers were all saying they must’ve stuck the birds down some hole in the ground and waited for everything to blow over. But I don’t think so. For one thing, that forum the poachers were on had a middleman specify that they’d pay extra for getting those birds as quickly as possible. The second and more important reason is that the last two poachers caught early this morning had a satchel stuffed full of money.”

I chuckled, despite even my laugh feeling rough and scratchy in my throat. “Could’ve led with that, you know. Okay, so them having actual money on their hands means someone met them in person.”

He nodded, handing me a glass of water I glugged down in two seconds. “My guess is the middleman got spooked after the first few stages of negotiation. Might’ve picked up what I was doing. So he or she added some extra layers of anonymity when discussing the handover. But it’s possible that all this is just the normal way they do things. ”

“Right. So where did this dude go? Where could they have gone? There aren’t that many people around here, are there?”

“Not anywhere close, no. The poachers had to camp out here. The last two were actually in their tent when they were caught. That’s important, because that makes it unlikely that they met this middleman a large distance from here. And no, none of them divulged the name of their associate. They’re either too scared, or they think there’ll be something in it for them if they keep their mouths shut. Probably both.

“Here’s what all this comes down to, Dy,” My brother said, “the only guest house open close to the Reserve right now is managed by the Lovansay Institute itself. The one we’re in right now.”

“So any suspicious individual looking to sell dead bird bodies is probably staying here. Lovely.” I rubbed my temples. My headache hadn’t receded so much as I felt that I was getting accustomed to it. “So you plan on having us interview all the guests?”

He patted my shoulder. “We’d be staying here anyway. And no, you’re going to keep yourself parked right here and rest. If you overextend yourself now by doing something stupid, I’m going to dunk your head in vinegar the second you get better.

That was a weirdly specific threat, which for him meant he’d actually seen it carried through. I was tempted to follow up on the topic, out of pure curiosity, but I didn’t want him thinking about it any more than he already was.

“Oh,” He said, “and I forgot. You should eat something.” He placed a tray of food, including a bowl of soup and several unwrapped chocolate bars, on my lap. “You need to up your caloric intake for your recovery.”

“Fantastic news.” I said, trying out the soup. “Now, why don’t you tell me a bit about our fellow guests while I eat?”

*

The walls were thin in this place, which made it perfectly possible to listen to any conversations outside. After a few hours of staring up at the ceiling, that became something of a mercy.

“Can’t you give me an earpiece or something?” I complained to Ryan as he made his way out. “So I can at least listen in to what you’re doing?” Staring at a screen made my headache begin to tighten its screws, which ruined about ninety percent of potential entertainment options.

“I could, certainly, but the earpiece I already got you is currently at the bottom of Cinchona Lake. I do have a spare, but it doesn’t have a ton of battery left, certainly not enough to stay active for hours at a time. Tell you what,” he placed another earpiece on the side table. “If I think something interesting is going to happen, I’ll ring you on the phone and you can put it on.”

“That’s fair.” Probably fairer than I deserved, considering what my recklessness had gotten me into.

“Cheer up a little.” He said, patting my back. “I asked around, and it turns out it’s rather uncommon for snow to settle on ice – the wind usually blows it off the smooth surface after a while. So in some ways, you just got unlucky there. Right, so your pill bottles and the list of times is on this paper under the glass.. Doctor Grodin’s room is just across the hall. There’s a good chance he’ll hear you if you shout. Plus this bell connected here,” he tapped the shiny silver surface softly, “which will bring in someone from the kitchen. The room you’re in right now is barely a few feet away too, so you shouldn’t have a problem contacting them. Really, don’t hesitate to call them in for anything. I gave them a nice large tip to make sure they give you six-star treatment.”

“Well, I’d certainly want to get the value of our money.” I observed, lying back into the sheets with my arms behind my head. “Good luck with your interviews, I suppose.”

He sighed. “I might need it, especially since some of these people apparently plan on leaving tonight, and I certainly have no authority to keep them here. But I’ll figure something out. I always do..” He patted my shoulder again and closed the door behind him as he left.

I nestled a cup of tea to my chest and stared out at the rest of the room. White ceiling. Arsenic green wallpaper, though it probably wasn’t old enough to be made with the real thing. A shame, really. Who wouldn’t want a room with a daily poisoning regimen? Other interesting features included a bed with pristine white sheets, one that was nonetheless rather lumpy and uncomfortable, and a large window showing the forest outside. Most of the trees had been stripped of their leaves, but there were a few pines here and there, all of them dusted on top with powdery snow. I shivered and drew my blankets closer.

All in all, even with the fever, I was just glad to be in here with the heat lamp rather than out there and alone. I took a sip of the tea, swirling the bitter depths around with my tongue. It tasted terrible, but there was a solidity within its ghastliness. It anchored me here in a way few things could.

However, even my paralyzing dread of the world outside could not hold off the onset of boredom. I picked up the notepad provided by the guesthouse. The paper was all rough and scratchy, almost impossible to write on. I even tried with a pen from my backpack. Eventually, I resorted to crumpling each page and tossing it into a trash can across the room. That was fun for a few minutes, until I realized I could do it with my eyes closed. I threw the last paper ball just as someone was coming in with the lunch tray.

Her face was drawn and hard, her dark hair with a large grey streak running through it. She wasn’t wearing a uniform, which made sense in a small-scale guesthouse like this, but she looked as if she did have one she’d find an excuse to wear it during her free time. Her strangest feature was her eyes, so pale a brown they looked almost gold. They stood out like stars from her dark skin. My paper ball bounced off her nose, and she scowled at me as she laid the tray down on the table.

“You’re clearly doing fine.” She said, in a low, growly voice. “I don’t know why everyone was making such a fuss about you anyway. They were calling in medics from the rangers, commandeered this room all for yourself because apparently the ones upstairs weren’t good enough for your ‘delicate condition’. We’re lucky the Deckards didn’t leave here early.”

“I’m guessing the Deckards were the previous inhabitants of this room?” I asked, reaching for a piece of toast. God, even chewing made my head throb at this point. The toast itself was rather underdone, but still a nice change of pace from the teas and the soups.

“Yes.” The nurse (Waitress? Concierge?) muttered, being more talkative than I’d expected. “Good thing they barely hang out around here anyway. Too busy with their skiing plans, I suspect. Generous tippers, but do you know they’re actually considering building a skiing resort around these parts? As if we need more tourists around here.”

That seemed rather shortsighted, considering a decent amount of those visitors would be staying here. “Why, is this place already full?”

“Let’s say at full capacity for this season, considering how half our people went home for Christmas. And it’s not like the guests here are any less picky than usual, with Ms. Silva always wanting her tea just right…”

I kept her talking about the guests for a little while. Poor woman seemed like she badly needed someone to vent to. Other than the ski-enthusiast Deckards, and the ornithologist Silvas, there was also Doctor Grodin, who apparently really had been on his vacation before I’d dunked myself into the lake. I really should remember to thank the guy. Maybe I could ask Ryan to remind me.

Anyway, my new conversation partner swerved to complaining about the rest of the remaining staff, but thankfully remembered her other duties before she could go too far down that rabbit hole.

The tray she’d set down had a rather sparse selection, with just the toast and another bowl of creamy tomato soup, but it did fill me up enough that I drifted back into sleep, into dreams that were gentler than I expected. I was still submerged in water, yes, but the water was blue and delightfully clear, even warm. As if at any moment the waves would drift me up and I would come to shore on a sunny beach. I looked down, and saw snowy fields below me where the sand should have been, the trees dark dots scattered along it. There were birdcalls coming through the water, some harsh and some sweet, but none of them were in sight. That detail was what bothered me most. Really, from my vantage point, I should be looking down at them. Or should I?

Then I gazed towards the distance, and saw a flock of them coming towards me, their blue and white feathers glowing in the water. They had outstretched wings that were not beating and glassy eyes that were not seeing, coming close enough I could see the dark beads of blood on their chests where the darts had gone inside.

I woke up twitching on that stupid lumpy mattress. My whole body ached to the bone. Still, my fever had simmered down a little, enough that I could feel the wintry chill emanating from the window. My eyes opened to see Ryan sitting at my bedside and drinking coffee. He looked weary. I mean, even more than usual. Plus the way he sipped his coffee indicated he didn’t like it very much. He is a pupil of the unluckiest school of addicts; completely snobbish about whatever they imbibe, but also compelled to drink it at any and every given opportunity. He drained the cup and set it down. “You okay?” He asked.

“Better. Could be more better, I suppose.” I groaned and tried to sit up again. I felt blood pulsing through my skull, but after Ryan puffed a pillow and put it behind me I managed it in the end. “What about you? How are things going?”

He unfolded a map from his pocket and spread it over the bed. A few things were already marked on the surface. “This is the spot where we ambushed the poachers, a few miles off from the Carnegie River. The last two caught this morning had about one day to make the exchange and be caught in their tents. I’m trying to figure out exactly where they went in the meantime. I can’t imagine the middleman would be another ranger, or really any local capable of bagging these birds themselves. They could just do that with considerably less risk and a lot more profit. And since this land is owned by the Institute, there just aren’t that many settlements around here they could’ve gone to.”

“Maybe it was a researcher at the Institute, maybe? Or one of the staff?”

“Possible, but again, a scientist might’ve had better options for laying their hands on Hilloughby buntings. They literally keep several in-house there for study. But my real problem is this. You can get a really good price for these buntings – the sack full of money left for the poachers is evidence this middleman is counting on it. However, the people willing to pay that amount are few and far between. Not easily found at any corner of the Web, dark or otherwise. My gut says this was someone who negotiated this hunt and payment in person, and most of the people around here aren’t big travelers.”

“So you’re especially suspicious of the tourists staying here, then.” I rubbed my forehead. “Ow. I’ve never hated anything as much as I despise this headache. It even hurts to think now.”

“Thankfully, it must not hurt very much in that case.” My brother said, offering a small and easily missed smile. He moved on before I could devise an appropriate retort. “Anyway, yes. I’ve spent the last few hours trying to get a proper hit on these five guests’ whereabouts over the last few days.

“Dr. Grodin’s been staying in for the last week.” I told him. “I’d make fun of the guy for coming all the way here to do that, but after yesterday I’m pretty sure that makes him smarter than me.”

“You’ve talked to the staff? Excellent. I haven’t had the chance to do that yet. Him staying in does track with what the good doctor himself told me. It makes his chances of being our middleman lower, but not impossible. He’d just need to slip away and come back at the right time. Moving on, the Silvas both work in ornithology, and from what they told me, they visit this Reserve every year.”

“Ornithology…” I puffed up the pillow behind my head again. It was mercifully a lot more comfortable than the mattress, but it was already growing damp with sweat. “That’s studying birds, right? Or am I thinking about snakes?”

“Snakes is herpetology. You were right on the first try.” Ryan said. “And I’d find them being ornithologists a lot more suspicious if the Lovansay Institute wasn’t already filled with them. Now, the Silvas mentioned they come here every summer to study the wildlife, but got delayed by a conference this year and had to make this trip instead.”

I tried stretching in the bed, to limited success. “Fascinating, really. And what were they doing yesterday?”

“Both the Silvas and the Deckards were out in the reserve early in the morning. The Silvas took a route all the way around here,” his finger circled the map around to a bunch of black patches, “to visit the pucejay nesting sites. One of the rangers over there confirmed she saw them there pretty much at the moment you fell in the lake. I doubt they had enough time to return. In contrast the Deckards, instead of taking the skiing route they reportedly planned, were checking the Carnegie River. It seems they wanted to see if it could be used for white-water rafting in their resort.”

“In the middle of winter?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. That made them either very suspicious or very stupid. If you try to draw a criminal Venn diagram, you’ll find those two circles overlap almost completely.

Ryan snorted and shook his head. “You haven’t heard the half of it yet. The rangers found them running off in the opposite direction. They claimed they panicked after hearing the shots, which I suppose is reasonable, but still…”

“Yeah, definitely worth taking a closer look at.” I accepted the handful of pills my brother gave me and swallowed them in one go, nearly gagging in the process. Were they supposed to taste like grave dust? I took another sip of tea and wiped my mouth. “Either way, I really think you should talk to the people working in here.”

“Agreed.” He said. Ryan switched out the damp pillow behind my head for a new one, and there was a guilty expression on his face I recognized immediately. “Hey, I’m sorry about what happened, okay? I should’ve said it earlier, but…” He shook his head. “Sometimes it feels like all I’ve ever done is get you in trouble.”

I couldn’t help chuckling, spluttering water all over the sheets in the process. “Blugh. Oh, man. That’s hilarious. We traipsed off to arrest a bunch of people with loaded rifles, and you thought it wouldn’t be dangerous?”

He offered a nervous, sheepish smile. “It’s just – ”

“It’s just fine, okay? Even the rangers warned us to stay close when we started out in the morning. I didn’t stay close, and I suffered the consequences. Let’s leave it at that.”