The Second Case

That night the snow kept falling.

Emma sat alone in her cottage, the rejection still sitting heavy in her chest, when the door opened. Rachel entered first, followed by Nathalie. Neither of them spoke right away. Rachel closed the door against the cold. Nathalie stood near the wall, arms folded, watching Emma with the same careful intensity she always used when they were alone.

Rachel was the first to break the silence.

“They’re wrong,” she said quietly. “But they won’t move unless we force them to look at it differently.”

Emma looked between the two women. “You want to appeal again.”

“Yes.” Rachel’s voice was calm, but there was steel under it. “Three days. We prepare properly this time. We bring every scrap of usable data from the files. We map the route. We present the medical reality without soft language. And we make it clear that waiting until spring is a risk, not a safety measure.”

Nathalie stepped closer. The lamp light caught the sharp lines of her face and the quiet heat in her eyes.

“I’ll stand with you,” she said. “I’ve already told them the coastal approach is viable. I’ll say it again, louder. They trust my scouting more than they trust most people’s instincts.”

Something unspoken passed between Emma and Nathalie in the small space — old, familiar, and still dangerous. Rachel saw it. She always did. Her jaw tightened slightly, but she said nothing about the lake or the years of silence she had kept. She only looked at Emma with the complicated loyalty of someone who disapproved and still chose to protect.

“We do this carefully,” Rachel said. “No emotion. No personal arguments. Facts only. The suppressant data. The temperature records. The degradation risk. And the fact that you are no longer part of the breeding programme.”

Emma’s throat tightened at the last point, but she nodded.

Nathalie’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary. “Three days. We get everything ready. Then we go back in front of them.”

Rachel glanced between the two women once more, the old knowledge sitting heavy behind her eyes, then looked away.

“Get some sleep,” she said. “Both of you. We’ll start at first light.”

They left soon after. The snow continued to fall outside, soft and relentless. Inside the cottage, Emma sat for a long time in the quiet, the frustration and the new fragile hope tangled together in her chest.

Three Days Later – The Second Appeal

The council gathered again in the main hall. The fire burned higher this time. Snow still covered the ground outside in deep, silent drifts.

Emma stood in the centre once more, but she was not alone. Rachel stood to her right with a thin stack of carefully organised notes. Nathalie stood to her left, posture straight, expression unreadable.

Emma spoke first, voice steady.

“Three days ago you denied the request. We’ve returned with a clearer case.”

Rachel stepped forward and laid the papers on the central table.

“These are the recoverable sections of the Site B files. Temperature logs. Compound notes. Storage conditions. The cold that preserved the samples is the same cold that is currently protecting them. Every week we wait increases the chance of further degradation when the thaw comes.”

Nathalie spoke next, her voice low and precise.

“I’ve reviewed the coastal approach again. The snow has actually improved visibility in some sections by covering unstable ground. The route is difficult, but it is not impossible. Two people. Forty-eight hours. Margot can still make the delivery and extraction.”

Rachel continued without pause.

“And there is the medical reality. Emma is no longer viable for the breeding programme. That is not opinion. It is confirmed. The long-term reproductive risk of losing her is no longer what it once was. Millie, Jenna, and Thomasin can cover the teaching duties. The knowledge risk is manageable.”

A long silence followed.

The eldest council member looked at the three women standing together — Emma in the centre, Rachel with her clinical certainty, Nathalie with her quiet, unwavering support. Something in the alignment of the three of them clearly unsettled him, though he could not have named exactly why.

He looked down at the papers, then back up.

“…We will deliberate.”

The wait was shorter this time.

When the council returned, the decision had changed.

“Two people,” the eldest said. “Forty-eight hours. Margot delivers and extracts. No extensions. You leave after one week of preparation.”

Emma felt the shift land in her chest — sharp, cold, and final.

Permission had been granted.