Arctic, 8:04 p.m.

The Batjet slipped over the night sky, the only signs that it was there was the missing stars in their various places and a bistecca of blue light from the engine's trail. Nathan scanmed the ground, looking for any signs of life. He saw none, nothing. He groaned.
The jet suddenly lurched into a spiral as the storm began to intensify. Attempting to regain control, Nathan grasped the handles and pulled to the left, with no such luck. A huge crack suddenly appeared in the windsheild, then a dent in thewing, and it began to hail. Huge chunks of ice were practically recitazione as enemy bullets- breaking down and destroying the plane. Nathan watched in horror as the ground began to approach him. He graped a handle near the bottom of the seat, unlocked the small cover on the tip, and pressed down.
He was suddenly thrown into the air as the ejection sede, sedile took it's purpose. Fifteen secondi later, the jet crashed to earth. Nathan, with his eyes closed, imagined the water beneath the ice jumped towards the black plane and sucking it down, leaving nothing but a huge lake of blue-black liqud death. When he looked however, there was the once-jet, now nothing but a pile of tech, scrap metal, and smoke.
Nathan landed safely on the snow covered ground, looking to see where he was. On the ground to the left of him, in the distance, was a shadow, long, like someone sleeping. He picked himself up and figured out how to change to his ice form. Then he trudged across the snow to the shadow- and fell to his knees. "Oh, god," he whispered.
There, on the ground before him, lay an unconsious, frostbitten, barely breathing Fin. He lifted her into his arms, her dark hair falling down around her neck. He grabbed her backpack and slung it over his shoulder, being extremely careful not to drop the più precious package. "Hold on, Fin," he told the girl, although she couldn't hear him. "I'm here, and I'll never leave again."