Whistlin Boreas

A fogged eye hung high above the snowy archipelago, for once its vision crystal clear with nary a cloud in sight. The sea surrounding reflected countless lights, spiraling galactic arms which played home to Earth. And in a flash, they were gone, as a bright flood lamp stole away the stars.

The crunch of ice turned to the deep thuds upon preserved concrete. Boreal winds sang through the unearthed structures, stripped bare by calamity and clocks. From the dark strode a figure, taller and larger than any human man, one who struggled to fit through the ancient doorway.

"HEY! Gerbriah! C'mon, it's cold out, you need some sleep!" A husky voice bellowed. She stood near the tripod, pointing the light towards another figure. He was more wiry, a smaller fellow, perched on an old metal beam at the highest point of the ruin. Disappointed, her turned his gaze away from the empty sky. The smack of lips, polished off wax paper quickly tucked into a satchel; it reeked of fish and ammonia.

"Comin' Solla!" A blur of white like a clump of snowfall blurred past, landing onto the ground floor. Claws marked the impact and he recovered. Pleased, the floodlight was turned off and another light came to take its place. A gentle flickering lamp joined the choir of the stars above. Thick furred digits clutched the wire grip of the old red lamp as she came closer.

The soft glow lit the two, reflecting off of each other's white coats. Solla, descended from Urus maritimus, towered over her companion - Gerbriah, a slender example of a people distantly related to Vulpes lagopus.

"Look," she began, "we need to get going. Radar's saying there's a whiteout headed our way."

His eyes widened, tail puffing up. Got his attention, that did. "Shit! Forgot to check that, thanks Sol."

"Bah, you always forget knucklehead. How was the gurry?"

"Good!" He grinned. "The sharks have rebounded greatly. Thought I'd try an old human recipe I found. Bury it it in the gravel, dig it up, hang it... it's more complicated that that, but I got some still if ya want?" Gerbriah rummaged through his bag. A bear-like grip landed on his shoulder.

"No thanks, I could smell it while I was asleep. I'll take those fries though."

A snack of yam strips were shared as their boots parted fresh snow. A wind tussled their fur as they trudged along, Solla in front and Gerbriah in back, the two linked by a high-vis cable. Occasionally, their lamp would catch something Boreas had found. Gerbriah scurried over and pulled out a flag and stuck it in.

"Looks like.... one of those big cars!"

"Hm, you thinking-"

"-that it dates to the 2nd Commodity Era? Absolutely. It seems to be an electric engine, not gasoline." He clicked his tongue. The paint had been stripped clean like most other artifacts from that time, the metal carcass lying dead half sunken in the ice. The two marked it in and continued.

"You know... Sometimes I can't believe this place used to not be cold. Dark. Once, this was all artificial islands and resorts!" He spread his arms out incredulously.

"The middle Anthropocene was marked by changing climate due to humans using fossil fuels; once the Arctic had melted, businesses bought up the land for industry and luxury," lectured the bear. Idle claws scratched beneath the straps of her backpack. The snow picked up.

"All that light, no stars, no fish-

"Thank gods."

"-and no respect."

The two grew quiet. Ruins peeked out from the snow, steel veins crisscrossing the ice. From the glow, a shape emerged - two lights flanking a dangling rope bridge.

"Approaching crossing 70°40'30.2 N," spoke Solla into her radio. Despite the clouds of perfect white forming on the dark horizons, the two showed the utmost caution. For beneath them stretched a chasm of ice all the way to the frigid arctic waters, old human infrastructure breaking out of the reflective walls on some parts. Visibility was low, the lantern's light tenuous. Solla wished for the flood lights to be installed here soon, but this was now. The fox, fleet as ever, hooked the two up to the sides of the rope bridge. He gave a thumbs up.

The bridge swayed with every step. Gerbriah wished he didn't eat his fermented shark so close to the crossing, but they had to reach the base. Halfway through, drowsiness clawed at the edges of his vision. He shook himself.

"You alright?"

"Yeah yeah, 'm good! I'm good."

Nonetheless a mitt was extended, one he took with no hesitation. Boreas' voice turned into a haunting moan over the gap, as if lamenting their perseverance. When the two came over the bridge, they both unhooked from it and breathed a sigh of relief. Both spared a look eastward - spotlights shown directly into the sky, marking out a series of domes.

"Home base!" The bear cried.

"We're gonna make it! We're gonna-!"

A crash of snow and the howling of winds blocked out his voice. The claws of the north and wings of endless precipitation decorated the formless dragon. The whiteout had found them.

"RUN!!!" Solla scooped up her companion and the two booked it through the raging winds. Neither could see, but they could feel, could hear. Each other's warmth, the other's heartbeat, exhausted breaths that curled into the air only to be stolen by Boreas. Gerbriah curled into Solla's arms, his tail wrapped around her neck to keep her warm. Each footfall was uncertain as she couldn't help but wonder Was this the right way? Did I get us off track? But her worries were broken with Gerbriah occasionally nudging her left or right.

He mumbled something she couldn't hear. His hearing is incredible... So too was her strength, though she would not admit it. Spurred on by her partner, she dug against the ice and fought the dragon for every inch. And eventually...

They slammed the door behind them. Pneumatic valves hissed as the door sealed the base off from the raging blizzard. Solla stripped Gerbriah of his gear first.

"Gerbriah? Gerbs? You okay?" Worry filled her voice as she shook him.

"Feelin'... a bit nauseous. Gonna go pop a squat. Cocoa?" He weakly requested. His ears were flat against his head.

"Always. Let Avun know what happened."

Gerbriah slinked out of the entrance as Solla took off her gear and shook off the snow. A brief check of diagnostics showed that the outpost was stable - fuel supplies high, temperature high and constant, 158 days till sunrise.

Entering the outpost proper, it was surprisingly cozy. Amenities from home like carpets and entertainment littered the research base that the three managed. In one corner sprawled a modern hearth which Gerbriah claimed a spot by, and in another a set of VR goggles - invaluable for both research and boredom. It was how she found Gerbriah's location so quickly via a drone, now safely recharging in her pack. Cluttered sounds echoed from the kitchen to her left.

Within the kitchenette stood a human, the midpoint of builds between their two colleagues. Like most humans their body was modified both at birth and throughout their lives. Avun's augments were more mechanical, sharp avian legs and a whip like tail for balance with one arm filled with a dizzying array of adjustable tools. A thin coating of fur save for the tips of their knife shaped ears and a thick head of hair decorating their crown was reason enough that it was Solla who braved the storm.

"Look who came back! Don't worry, got your coffee and his cocoa," reassured Avun. Their accent was thick enough to get caught in your teeth, a pleasant sound to mark the end of a troubling outing. Colorful mugs sat on the counter filled to the brim with their respective drinks. Another sat by Avun atop an ornate coaster, this one filled with a pale tea.

"You're a lifesaver. Yeah, he got sidetracked. Precious bugger was eating.... oh what was he eating?"

"Kæstur hákarl!" he cried.

"Aaaaah, he ate the fermented shark. Somniosus microcephalus, otherwise known as the Greenland Shark. Back when there *was* a Greenland. Glad to see they've made a rebound." Avun smiled.

Solla returned the expression. The three had been monitoring the environment's bounce-back after extreme climate reversal efforts, and in the meantime have been studying the ruins left behind by humans from the early Anthropocene. Similar stations, some from the same project while others here for a different purpose, dotted the Arctic circle.

The two joined their third as he was cocooned in blankets, thankful for the drink. Before they would retire, it was tradition to open up comms with the other stations. Communications were common, especially during the polar night. Boreas' whistling was reason enough. So was boredom.

More than light was needed to keep out the dark and the cold. Friendship, the warmth of curiosity and compassion, that's what thawed these nights out. It was a fine kind of flame that no wind could snuff out.