Freezing to death

If Larten knew how to find them, he would have taken the baby to the nearest homestead and left him
to the mercy of the people within. But the towns could be anywhere. It was
impossible to judge.

“You will have to die with me,” he mumbled, teeth chattering, orange
hair caked with frost, eyes slit against the wind and snow. “But we will find
a good place to perish. I can do that much right at least.”

Larten’s only concern now was to find a cave that could serve as the
baby’s tomb. Larten didn’t care if he himself died in the open, to be buried
in snow or torn apart by scavengers. But he wanted something better for the
boy, a sheltered, quiet place where his remains wouldn’t be disturbed.

The wind roared around them and the temperature dropped. Larten
hadn’t thought it could get any colder, but he was wrong. Even his vampire
blood seemed poised to turn to ice in his veins. His exposed flesh was
numb. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a grimace. The scar on
the left side of his face was blue from the chill. Only his chest was
marginally warm, where the baby nestled beneath his shirt.

Larten slipped and almost collapsed on top of the boy, but managed to
twist and fall on his side. He gasped from the shock of the cold impact. Part
of him wanted to lie there and let nature take its course. If he had been
alone, he might have stopped. It would have been easier than rising and
pushing on. But there was the baby to consider, so he prepared himself to
get up.

***

The Saga of Larten Crepsley: Palace of the Damned, Chapter 1