Tanner knew what he was getting himself into, after all sailing through the treacherous stretches of arctic ocean was one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. But even that knowledge had not prepared him for what was to come.
What started off as an eerily quiet morning in the sea turned into a nightmare within moments as a sudden violent jolt rocked the boat shattering the calm. Mallory’s instincts kicked in, his seasoned hands steadying the wheel.
Unbeknownst to the three fishermen, the sea had a surprise waiting for them, one that would test everything they had learned in their years on the water. They didn’t know that this day would change the trajectory of their lives forever.
Mallory, Tanner, and Jacob hailed from the small, rugged town of Frosthaven, a place so far north that the sun barely skimmed the horizon during the long winter months. The three of them had been fishing together since they were old enough to hold a rod.
A few months back, after a few drinks at the pub they decided to start their own fishing business, pooling their savings to buy a boat and the necessary equipment. It was a modest operation, but it was theirs, and they took pride in it.
They would venture out to sea at the crack of dawn and voyage through the frigid waters in the hope of some snow trouts or salmon. If they were lucky, they would get to haul in some crabs, a lucrative bonus that made the hard days worth it.
It was a day like any other. The sea was calm, the sky clear, with a sense of anticipation in the air about the day’s catch. Mallory, with his grizzled beard and weathered skin, kept his eyes on the horizon, ever-watchful for the icebergs that drifted through these frigid waters like ghosts.
The wind howled around them, whipping the icy spray from the sea into their faces as Jacob, and Tanner wrestled with the fishing nets. They had been out since dawn, the cold biting at their fingers, but the promise of a good catch kept them moving.
The Arctic had changed in their lifetimes, the ice melting faster every year, creating new dangers in a place that was already unforgiving. The boat rocked gently as they moved about their tasks, a rhythm they had known since childhood.
It was a quiet morning, the kind that lulled a man into thinking that the sea was calm, that nothing could go wrong. Until all of a sudden, a sharp jerk rocked the boat. Jacob was the first to notice the shift, a sudden shudder that ran through the boat like an electric shock.
Tanner, busy with the lines, cursed under his breath, stumbling as the boat lurched to one side. Mallory’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at the waters ahead. “Steady, lads!” Mallory’s voice cut through the rising tension, a rock of authority in the chaos.
For what felt like an eternity, Mallory battled the elements, his knuckles white as he held the wheel steady against the waves. The boat tilted dangerously to one side, and then, with a final, desperate turn, Mallory managed to pull them free of the chaos.
Mallory exhaled a long, shaky breath, while Jacob and Tanner, both pale and wide-eyed, slowly picked themselves up from where they had braced against the boat’s violent movements. The three men exchanged glances, the unspoken question hanging in the air: What had just happened?
They moved as one, stepping out onto the deck to assess the situation. However, the sight that met them was enough to make their blood run cold. A colossal iceberg loomed before them, its sheer size almost incomprehensible.
It towered over the water, a massive wall of ice that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. The iceberg was easily as large as Frosthaven itself. The sheer size of it made the three men thank heaven for being safe and sound.
As they stared in awe at the iceberg, something caught Jacob’s eye. At the far edge of the ice, just where it began to slope down towards the water, something was moving. He squinted, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to make out the shape.
Tanner adjusted the binoculars, his pulse quickening as he focused on the distant shape. The figure was small, moving slowly across the ice, barely visible against the blinding white of the iceberg. His mind raced with possibilities—was it a seal?
With a sharp intake of breath, he lowered the binoculars and turned to the others, his voice tinged with disbelief. “It’s a polar bear cub… stranded on the ice.” The three men stood in stunned silence, their eyes locked on the tiny, shivering form of the polar bear cub.
The sight of the helpless animal, so small and fragile against the vast expanse of ice, awakened something in them—an urge to help, to save this innocent life from a cruel fate. “We can’t just leave it there,” Jacob said, his voice thick with emotion.
The others nodded, the decision made without a word. They would rescue the cub, no matter the risk. Mallory, ever the cautious one, took the helm again, carefully steering the boat closer to the iceberg.
As they navigated through the icy maze, their eyes never left the small figure on the ice. When they drew nearer, the full scale of the iceberg became even more daunting. Its towering walls of ice stretched far above the deck of their boat.
The cub was perched high up on a ledge, its tiny body trembling with fear. The gap between the ice and the boat was too wide, too dangerous for the cub to attempt a jump. The reality of the situation hit them like a punch to the gut. How were they going to reach it?
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Mallory muttered. Jacob’s brow furrowed in concern as he studied the iceberg. “We can’t just leave it,” Tanner said, determination hardening in his voice. He looked around the boat, his mind working quickly. “We’ll have to climb up to it.”
Mallory and Jacob exchanged worried glances. “That’s insane, Tanner,” Mallory said, his voice laced with concern. “Those ice walls are unstable. One wrong move, and you’ll end up in the water, or worse.” Jacob nodded in agreement, his expression tense.
But Tanner was already moving, gathering fishing gear and ropes, his face set in grim resolve. His hands moved with purpose as he began fashioning a makeshift ice axe, tying the ropes to a couple of sturdy fishing hooks.
With that, Tanner stepped onto the ice, testing his weight before committing to the climb. The others watched, their hearts in their throats as he slowly ascended the icy wall, the makeshift hooks digging into the surface with each painstaking pull.
The journey was treacherous, the ice slick and unpredictable, but Tanner moved with a steady determination, driven by the desperate need to reach the cub. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tanner reached the ledge of the iceberg.
He looked at the tiny polar bear cub. The little creature was huddled against the ice, its fur soaked and matted, its eyes wide with fear and exhaustion. It was smaller than Tanner had imagined, and shivered uncontrollably in the freezing air.
“Hey there, little one,” Tanner murmured, his voice low and comforting. The cub looked up at him with frightened eyes, but there was a flicker of trust in its gaze. Gently, Tanner unzipped his jacket, creating a warm, protective cocoon for the cub.
With a careful motion, he lifted the small, trembling body and tucked it inside his coat, feeling its rapid heartbeat against his chest. The cub nestled against him, seeking warmth, and Tanner could feel its shivers slowly subside.
Just as Tanner secured the cub, a sharp gust of wind whipped across the iceberg, stinging his face with icy pellets. He looked up, his heart sinking as he saw dark clouds rolling in fast, blotting out the sun.
A snowstorm was rapidly brewing, and the sea suddenly erupted into a frenzy of howling wind and swirling snow.The storm hit with a ferocity that Tanner hadn’t anticipated. Within seconds, the world around him vanished, consumed by a blinding white fury.
A surge of fear gripped Tanner as the thought struck him—what if the cub’s mother was nearby, hidden in the blinding snow? She could charge through the storm at any moment, thinking he was harming the cub. The idea sent a cold chill down his spine.
For a fleeting moment, Tanner considered abandoning the cub, leaving it behind to save himself from the unknown danger. But the cub’s small, trembling form clinging to his chest renewed his resolve. He couldn’t abandon the helpless creature, not in this storm.
The wind roared in his ears and lashed at him from all directions, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. He clung to the jagged rock on the ledge, using every ounce of strength to keep himself from being swept away.
Tanner squinted through the blizzard trying to locate the boat. But the snow was so thick, so relentless, that it had swallowed everything in its path, including his only means of escape. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as Tanner crouched on the icy ledge, the storm raging around him.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the storm began to subside. The wind lessened, the snow stopped its relentless assault. Tanner, shivering and exhausted, dared to look up, praying that the boat would emerge from the dissipating storm.
But as the last of the snow settled, the landscape around him came into focus—and Tanner’s heart sank. The boat was gone. The spot where it had been was now just a stretch of icy water, churning in the storm’s aftermath.
Tanner’s eyes scanned the horizon desperately, searching for any sign of his friends, but there was nothing. The realization hit him like a hammer—he was alone, stranded on a massive iceberg with nothing but a tiny polar bear cub and the unforgiving Arctic wilderness.
Tanner felt paralyzed by the sheer weight of his situation. The cold seeped through his clothes, chilling him to the bone, but it was the fear for his life that truly froze him in place. His mind raced, scrambling for a plan that might get him out of this nightmare.
But all he could think about was the vast, empty expanse of ice stretching out in every direction, and the boat—his only lifeline—vanished without a trace. The tiny cub pressed closer against him, its warmth a small comfort against the overwhelming fear.
Tanner squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. He couldn’t afford to panic, not now. His mind began to clear, and a single thought pushed its way to the forefront: he had to find the boat!
It was his only chance of survival. If it had drifted away in the storm, maybe—just maybe—it was still nearby, hidden somewhere along the iceberg’s edge. With renewed determination, Tanner adjusted his grip on the cub and began to move.
He walked along the edge of the iceberg, scanning the horizon with desperate eyes, hoping against hope that the boat would reappear, that he would see Mallory and Jacob waving at him from a distance. But the hours dragged on, and the landscape remained unchanging.
The boat was nowhere to be seen. His legs grew heavy, each step becoming harder than the last as the bitter cold sapped his strength. The sun dipped closer to the horizon, casting long shadows across the ice.
With every passing minute, Tanner’s hope began to fade. The boat was gone—there was no sign of it, no trace of his friends. The realization weighed heavily on him, slowing his steps until he finally came to a stop and stared at the frozen wasteland.
He was alone, truly alone, in one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. But just as despair threatened to take hold, Tanner noticed something—a faint, unnatural shape against the whiteness. Squinting, he could just make out a squarish structure in the distance.
Tanner’s heart pounded as he fixed his gaze on the distant structure, a flicker of hope cutting through the cold numbness that had settled over him. Each step was an effort, but the sight of the building propelled him forward.
When he finally reached the structure, Tanner paused, as he took in the sight before him. It was an old weather station, or what remained of one. It was half-buried in snow, walls stained with rust and wear from years of exposure to the elements.
Tanner hesitated for a moment, the eerie silence pressing in on him as he considered what might lie within. But the sun was sinking fast, and he needed refuge to survive the harsh Arctic night. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Inside the weather station, the air was thick with the scent of rust and decay. The dim light filtering through the frost-covered windows revealed a space that had long been forgotten. Old, rusted machinery lined the walls, their once-gleaming surfaces now dulled by years of neglect.
Tanner’s breath hung in the air as he took in the scene. This place was a tomb, but it was also his only chance at surviving the night. The cold gnawed at his bones, and Tanner knew he had to find something to keep himself and the cub warm.
His eyes landed on a pile of old tarps in the corner, stiff from the cold but still serviceable. Wrapping the tarp around himself and the cub, Tanner felt a small measure of warmth, though it was nowhere near enough to ward off the biting cold entirely.
His eyelids drooped as he huddled against the wall, the sound of his own heartbeat loud in his ears.The day’s events had drained him, and now, in the relative safety of the weather station, he felt the fatigue crashing down like a wave.
Just as he began to drift into a restless half-sleep, something caught his attention—a faint, almost imperceptible sound that seemed out of place in the silent room. At first, Tanner dismissed it as the wind, or perhaps his tired mind playing tricks on him.
But as the seconds ticked by, the sound persisted—a low, steady static, like the faint hum of an old radio struggling to pick up a signal. Tanner’s heart began to race, his pulse quickening as he strained to listen. Was he imagining it?
After all, there was no one here but him and the cub. But the static grew louder, cutting through the silence with an eerie persistence that set his nerves on edge. Tanner sat up, his body tense with hope and fear.
Maybe he can find a functioning radio here. Tanner’s eyes swept across the room, searching for anything that could be causing the sound. And then he saw it—a door at the far end of the room, partially concealed by shadows.
Tanner hesitated for a moment at the threshold, his hand resting on the door handle as the static grew louder. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before pulling the door open. To his surprise, it revealed a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
Carefully, Tanner started down the stairs, each step creaking underfoot. His heart pounded in his chest as with every step. But the thought of a working radio, a lifeline to the outside world, pushed him forward.
The static grew louder as he descended and Tanner realized it was coming from directly below him. The staircase ended in a small, dimly lit basement, the walls lined with old, rusting equipment and shelves piled high with forgotten supplies.
And then, in the dim light of the basement, Tanner saw him—a man, haggard and unkempt, standing near a battered radio set. The man’s clothes were filthy, worn from years of use, and his face was covered in a thick, unruly beard.
His eyes were wide with shock, his skin pale and gaunt as if he hadn’t seen sunlight in years. For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other, neither able to process the reality of the situation.
The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling static from the radio, until, finally, the man’s expression crumbled. His face twisted in a mix of joy and sorrow, and he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks.
“Oh, thank God,” the man choked out between sobs, his voice hoarse and broken. “I—I thought I’d never see another soul again.” He looked up at Tanner with a mixture of shock and gratitude. “I’ve been alone here for so long… I thought I was losing my mind.”
Tanner took a cautious step forward, still processing the shock of finding another person in this desolate place. “I’m Tanner,” he finally said, his voice shaky but kind. He hesitated, then added, “Who are you? What happened here?”
The man took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m Iqaluk,” he said. “I’m Inuit, from a village up north. I came here with three scientists on an expedition. They needed someone who knew how to survive in these conditions and hired me to be their aid.”
Tanner listened intently as Iqaluk continued, “We were supposed to return home after a year, but the ship never came. At first, we thought it was just delayed. But days turned into weeks, and then months. The scientists weren’t prepared for what came next.”
“Our rations and medical supplies started running low and soon they succumbed to illnesses and harsh weather.” Iqaluk wiped his tears. “I have been here for almost a year now. Living off whatever I could find, scavenging through what was left.”
“Everyday I have tried to work this radio, hoping someone would find me. But I am no scientist. I had lost all hope to see another person in this lifetime.” Iqaluk told Tanner, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tanner recounted the day’s event to Iqaluk and continued, “Iqaluk, I know you’ve been trying to make this radio work, and I’m no expert, but I think I can give it a shot. Maybe… maybe I can reach my friends, or at least send out a signal.”
Iqaluk nodded, his hope rekindled by Tanner’s determination. Tanner’s hands shook slightly as he began adjusting the dials, the static crackled and hissed as he fiddled with the controls, trying to find the right frequency. At first, it was just noise.
But he kept trying to make contact with the boat’s radio, refusing to give up. And then, a flicker of something—a faint signal, a voice breaking through the static. Tanner’s breath caught in his throat as he fine-tuned the frequency, his pulse quickening with hope.
“This is Tanner,” he said, his voice shaky but clear. “Mallory, Jacob—if you can hear me, I’m at an old weather station. I have someone here with me. We’re sending out an SOS. Please… please respond.”
There was a moment of agonizing silence, and then, through the crackling static, Tanner heard a voice—Mallory’s voice. “Tanner! Thank God. We’ve been searching for you the entire day. Hang in there, we’ll come and rescue you as the dawn breaks.”
Relief washed over Tanner like a wave, his knees almost buckling as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Iqaluk’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time, they were tears of joy, of overwhelming relief. They had done it. They were going to be rescued!
The two men spent the night huddled in the basement, the polar bear cub nestled between them for warmth. They spoke quietly, sharing stories, their words a comfort against the cold that seeped through the walls.
When morning finally broke, a pale light spread across the ice, casting long shadows over the frozen landscape. Tanner and Iqaluk prepared to leave the weather station, the polar bear cub still nestled safely in Tanner’s jacket.
As they reached the edge, they saw them—Mallory and Jacob, standing with the rescue team in their boats. Mallory was the first to spot them, and he raised his arm in a triumphant wave. “Tanner!” he called out, his voice carrying across the ice.
Tanner’s heart swelled as he saw the joy on his friends’ faces, their relief mirroring his own. As they reached the boats, Mallory pulled Tanner into a tight embrace, his voice thick with emotion. “We were so worried,” he murmured, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.
As the boats pushed off, leaving the iceberg behind, Tanner looked back one last time, the memories of their ordeal still fresh in his mind. He glanced at Iqaluk, who was gazing out at the horizon with a peaceful expression.