When Amara regained consciousness, she was immediately struck by an overwhelming cold that seeped through her bones. She felt as if she were entombed in ice, shivering uncontrollably with her teeth clattering together like rattling dice.
She forced her eyes open, only to be greeted by a blinding expanse of white—snow stretched as far as she could see, swallowing everything in a suffocating blanket of cold.
Around her, the air was filled with the anguished cries of men and women, their voices a dissonant symphony of grief. The clamor was punctuated by the sounds of frantic shuffling, the crunch of feet against the snow, and the occasional thud of something heavy being moved or dropped.
Amara realized she was being held in a vice-like grip by someone—a woman, frail and gaunt, who clung to her with a desperate strength. A faint, pitiful warmth radiated from the woman's thin body, and Amara's gaze followed hers to a scene of devastation: a cluster of houses lay in ruins, crushed under the oppressive weight of the snow.
People, dressed in ragged, ancient clothing that seemed plucked straight from a period drama, huddled near the wreckage. Their hair was bound in traditional styles, and their faces bore the weary, defeated expressions of those who had already given up hope.
Some rummaged through the wreckage, scavenging for anything that might ward off the biting cold. Others simply knelt in the snow, weeping or calling out names that were swallowed by the wind.
"Why does this place look like a historical drama gone horribly wrong?" Amara thought, struggling to piece together where she was and why everything felt so real.
"If I don't find a way to warm up soon, I'll become the first employee in Quick Travel Department's history to freeze to death on my first mission. How embarrassing would that be?"
She attempted to wiggle free from the woman's grasp, but the woman tightened her grip, her voice cracking as she spoke, "Don't move, Yaya. You won't be cold if Mom holds you. You'll freeze to death if you go down."
Amara's teeth were chattering too much to respond at first. She looked down at her own body—her clothes were thin, flimsy, as though designed more for appearances than actual warmth.
"What am I wearing? It's like I'm wrapped in paper," she thought, irritation seeping into her voice. But it was clear that they couldn't just stay like this, hugging each other in the snow.
"Mom, we can't just sit here. We have to find shelter," Amara said, her voice muffled by chattering teeth.
The woman's eyes filled with hopelessness. "There is no shelter. All the houses around us have collapsed. The city lords won't let the people affected by the disaster into the city. There's nowhere for us to go."
Amara shook her head, trying to clear her foggy thoughts. She pulled herself from the woman's grasp and stood shakily on her feet. "We don't need to go far. We can build our own shelter right here."
The woman looked at Amara as if she were speaking another language, her eyes wide and glassy. "With what?" she asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and resignation.
Amara glanced around, her mind racing. Snow, snow, and more snow. But then she recalled something she had seen—an image in a book or maybe a survival show. Igloos! That was it. They could build an igloo.
"We can use the snow," Amara said confidently. "We'll build a house from it, like the Inuit do. It'll keep us warm."
Ignoring the woman's incredulous look, Amara quickly accessed her terminal with a thought, scanning the marketplace for the Igloo-housing instruction manual. "80 merit points?" she groaned internally, watching her balance drop painfully.
Amara studied the manual's instructions closely, determined not to mess this up. She scoured the area, finally finding a rusted shovel half-buried in the snow—hardly ideal, but it would have to do.
She began packing the snow tightly and cutting it into bricks, her breath puffing out in sharp, quick clouds as she worked.
One brick, two bricks—slowly but surely, a pile of snow bricks formed beside her. The woman watched in a daze before slowly joining in, her movements tentative at first but growing more confident with each brick they completed.
Amara's fingers ached, and her cheeks stung from the cold, but a fierce determination kept her moving. "Come on, come on," she muttered under her breath, pushing through the numbness.
Other women began to notice their efforts and joined in, moving mechanically at first, as if still unsure whether this mad idea would work.
The more they worked, the more Amara could feel a subtle warmth starting to build in her body—a small but welcome change from the numbing cold.
With each brick they laid, the semblance of a shelter began to take shape. Soon, they had constructed a rough circle of snow bricks on the ground.
By the time they had stacked the walls to chest height, even the onlookers seemed impressed. Amara, her teeth still chattering, felt a spark of pride. "Just a little more," she thought. "We can do this."
After nearly an hour of exhausting labor, Amara and the women had erected a crude but sturdy igloo. She used a broken jar with a layer of ice to form a makeshift window, letting in a sliver of light.
The final touch was to dig a low doorway that dipped beneath the igloo's floor, trapping heat inside. The ground was solid as iron and stubbornly refused to yield, but the women dug in turns, driven by a shared desperation.
At last, Amara crawled through the small entrance, pulling in bundles of straw and firewood she had scavenged from the wreckage. She could feel the skeptical eyes on her back, but she pushed on, carefully stacking the wood and striking a flint she found nearby.
As the fire caught, the flames crackled and sputtered, sending tiny sparks into the air. Amara's mother, still hesitant, tried to intervene. "Don't light a fire in here, Yaya. If the snow melts, we'll be in trouble again."
Amara waved off her concerns, quickly coming up with an explanation that would make sense to someone unfamiliar with the science of insulation. "Mom, it's so cold outside that any melted snow will just freeze into ice. It'll seal the gaps and keep the warmth in even better. Trust me on this one."
The woman hesitated, then nodded, though Amara could see the doubt lingering in her eyes. Still, she didn't protest further.
The fire blazed warmly, and as Amara predicted, the thin layer of water that formed inside soon hardened into ice, reinforcing the igloo's walls.
Amara and the other women huddled close around the fire, their expressions slowly shifting from cautious skepticism to relief. For the first time since she woke up in this frozen wasteland, Amara felt something close to comfort.
The walls glistened faintly in the firelight, casting a soft, soothing glow. The warmth enveloped them, chasing away the cold that had clung to their bones.
Sitting there, Amara let out a long breath, feeling her tense muscles finally start to relax.
Well,she thought wryly, at least I didn't freeze to death on my first mission. I might even survive this after all.
As the women around her shared quiet words of gratitude and exchanged relieved smiles, Amara allowed herself a small, satisfied grin. The first hurdle was over, but she knew the real challenge had just begun.