Hypothermia

He had stopped calling out Kururu's name a long time ago. The icy water that Saburo thought was filling his lungs was too thick for his mouth to shape into speech. It was scalding his airways just by breathing, so trying to use it for anything else would only be damaging. A sudden burst of speed, however, ripped the snow with his stumbling steps and quickened breath ripped into his throat to match it, along with a renewed cry.

“Kururu!”

He lost track of his own voice in the wind, or maybe this cold had frozen the word into his mind, and he had not noticed. He didn't spare any concern for this, though. He tripped slid deeper into the snow beside the unconscious Keronian, but the fall brought him close enough to reach. That was enough. Words weren't warm, he knew that much. Even knowing he didn't have much warmth of his to spare, he grabbed the amphibious alien from the snow's dangerously white grip and into his own. He opened his uniform jacket to fold the Keronian inside... His numb fingers slipped over the buttons, brushing the soaked fabric, and he realized that it wouldn't help. It wasn't helping him, and it wouldn't help Kururu. He shook his head faintly.

Still, why was this so bad for him? Rather, it had gotten to be like this because... He hadn't been able to help before, because Kururu had tried to prevent this, and he had taken that. Saburo blinked. He flexed his right hand, though not without a struggle. With his left, he dug into the Keronian's hat, suspecting, hoping... Finding! A triumphant laugh stung him. Kururu went into his jacket, anyway, because it was better than the snow, and he need both hands.

Of course, his notebook had been reduced to a fragile state at this point. It took almost a half an hour more of jerking the Pen shapelessly through paper to produce lines that would ink its surface. The resulting shelter was awkwardly formed. He would have assumed that it would not be a safe place to stay in for long, under more favorable conditions. All he found at that moment was relief that they would not be so directly swiped at by windy claws anymore. He crawled in, settling on his back, and murmured something that surprised him for its audibility. “There we go... now we can... wait this out...”

Then, sleep.