Voretober 2022 - FROZEN

Nunavut Clavius, the greatest explorer man has ever known! That’s what they’d call him after this solo expedition. He stuck his spiked pole in the ground as he turned around, gazing upon the glacial region he had crossed thus far. He was high enough that he could see across the land for a hundred miles. But he still had much more to go. He turned back forward, looking towards the peak. It was obscured by a blizzard he would soon run into, but some snow would be the last thing to stop him.

As he marched onward into the blizzard, he thought about all the naysayers in town that warned him against this one. They acknowledged his many other feats, but this one was considered too dangerous. There was ridiculous folklore about winds that could freeze one instantly. Tales of strange creatures wandering around. All nonsense. And he would be the one to prove it, once he reached the top and returned.

That said, he couldn’t deny that the cold was cutting. It only grew colder as his visibility grew worse, and he could feel his skin reddening where it was exposed. Regardless, he trekked deeper into the blinding white. It was getting harder with each step, and some gusts tried to knock him off his feet, but he endured. The effort was making him sweat under his layers, more than before.

During a particularly bad blast, he found himself unable to move forward. He dug his shoes into the ice and leaned against his pole, bracing the sharp winds whistling by his sides. He could feel what felt like snow rushing by his feet, but he held strong. Nunavut Clavius... WOULDN’T be beaten by a little storm. He could hold on. He had to. No matter how cold it got. No matter how fiercely the winds blew. He would hold on.

A figure wandered through the snowstorm unfazed. While it was hard to deny the forces involved in the blizzard, twenty feet of height, white fur that covered its entire body, and strong muscles throughout made it pose no problem for the creature. He treaded across the snowy mountain in search of nothing in particular. Rather, he was heading home, and this was his usual path. But in the storm he saw another figure. A smaller one than he.

As he approached, he realized the figure in question was what he would call ‘false-coats’. They were a rare sight, named such due to the strange, detachable layers they wore atop their body. This one was frozen solid. He leaned his head against the block of ice, listening for any sounds. Slowly, steadily there was a heartbeat. This one was still alive! A rare occasion indeed.

He considered what exactly to do about it. He once tried smashing one open once and it... didn’t exactly preserve the false-coat’s life. Even carefully, there was too much of a risk. He did, however, carefully pick up the preserved false-coat from the ground. He held the block of ice in front of him in the storm, looking into its covered eyes from behind his own fringes of hair. If it wasn’t for the heartbeat it was impossible to tell it was still alive in there.

An idea came to him suddenly. The sun would go down soon, so its warmth couldn’t be relied on. False-coats didn’t exactly last long frozen solid. But inside him was incredible warmth. And he didn’t mind having to hold the false-coat in his belly. He only hoped it would understand once it thawed.

His maw opened wide, presenting blue insides with a broad tongue and flat teeth. He casually lowered the frozen ‘false-coat’ in, the ice easily sliding to the back of his throat. A quiet gluk began the process of taking in the rest. His throat bulged wide even through his fur as the smaller figure slipped down it. It never once reacted with so much as a blink. Of course, it would have been terrified to see what was happening.

After a minute or so of swallowing, he was finally at the end. With a bulky finger he gently pushed the rest of the popsicle into his mouth, then finally shut it. With a hardy GLRK, he could finally breathe easily again. The block of ice settled comfortably in his stomach, making for a long lump that jutted out slightly. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before it thawed. In the meantime, he could finally head home.

Half an hour was how long it took to reach the cave he called home. There, the weather was calmer, although it wasn’t actually any lower in altitude. Inside the cave it was even a little warmer. It featured bedding made of the few grasses he could find on the mountain, a stone slab that worked as a seat, and some smaller, sharp stones he used to draw on the wall. Not to mention an assortment of other tools he used for gathering and so on.

He sat down on the slab, wondering when his rescue would stir. He didn’t really want to be awake all night, but his belly hadn’t moved the entire walk over. It should be soon... But maybe he underestimated how warm his body was. Or how alive it was. He decided to pass the time by drawing on the wall, crudely recreating the sight he saw today.

Nunavut Clavius woke up with a gasp in darkness. He was freezing to death. He was burning up. He wasn’t sure which one was true, but regardless he reached up and yanked his hat off. Then he noticed the moisture around him wasn’t melting snow or ice. It was humidity. He tried to move, but his legs were still frozen. So was his other arm. He was glad to be alive, but where was he? He reached out into the darkness and felt... something. Something that gave, but was undoubtedly solid.

With his teeth he yanked off his glove and felt forward again. He hit a burning hot wall, almost literally stinging. But more importantly he could tell the feeling was that of flesh. He was inside some beast! Swallowed alive, while frozen? The monster that ate him must be massive to fit all of him inside like that. In fact, he could hear it making noises around him now that he was moving. If only he could get his stick free, perhaps he could tear his way out.

The ‘beast’ in question started feeling the false-coat within him moving around just as he was growing tired. He felt his own stomach as it did, expecting to feel something more lumpy and soft. But it seemed like half or more of it was still frozen. He groaned aloud as he realized this, but it was no big deal. He could always let it out once day broke, and surely it would thaw by then. He was no meat-eater. With nothing for him nor the false-coat to worry about, he walked over to his bedding and laid down.

Nunavut Clavius, trying to chip his alpenstock free, suddenly felt his world turn. He found himself sideways, laying down as if he was going to sleep. But in reality, it was the creature he was inside that was going to sleep. Its snores soon echoed through the gut, and he knew he was on some kind of clock. But there was so little he could even do. As hot as it was, most of his body was still frozen in thick ice, slowly melting. His long pole occupied the entire length of ice, but he was desperate to get it out.

With his one free hand, he rattled the pole in place. Something cracked, he hoped it was the ice. Surely it was weakening from the beast’s warm innards. With a swift move, he yanked out his stick... without its spike. The end was jagged wood, although not sharp enough to affect his captor. He tried to stab the stomach walls with it and while it did push outwards, it didn’t so much as scratch them.

As he rested his arm after the failure, he became aware of a stinging fluid below him. Stomach acid, he knew. This couldn’t be the end of Nunavut Clavius. Right? He still had to become the greatest explorer ever known. A little storm couldn’t beat him, but neither could a big beast. He would get out of this. He just had to wait for the right moment. And so he did.

The white-furred creature woke up as light began to bounce inside his cavern. He rose with a stretch and a yawn, smacking his lips and feeling something shift within his belly. Looking down, he saw a smaller paunch than when he went to sleep. The false-coat he discovered the night before came to his mind. It felt thawed now, if smaller than he expected. And softer than he expected.

He got up from his bedding and stood closer to the entrance and began to heave. Soon enough he could feel something come up his throat. The feeling of the false-coat’s, well, false coat. It got as far as his mouth, at which point he elected to help it the rest of the way by reaching in and dragging it out. Almost as soon as it got out, he realized something was wrong.

The false-coat hung limply in his grip. It was almost entirely covered, but the first thing he noticed was that parts of its outermost layer had been eaten away. Burned away. And then suddenly, bones clattered out of its lower half. With some disappointment and curiosity, he gently shook the remainder in his hand, only hearing the sounds of clacking like so many stones. In retrospect, its head did look... different from the other ones he had managed to carefully peel. More defined, whiter, harder. Hollower. All supposed he spent too long ‘thawing’ out the false-coat, not realizing the strength of his own stomach. Next time he saw one, he would know what to do.