She pulled up the edge of her balaclava and forced the subzero air into her lungs. The chill jarred her back to her senses. There was a chance — a slim one, admittedly, but it existed — that Amanita wasn’t dead. It could’ve been a shoulder shot and she just fell into the river. Granted, suffering from hypothermia thanks to the cold water wasn’t much better, but it was still better. Maybe she could find a space to crawl out downriver. And there was a chance she knew spells to help with her body temperature or keeping fires going. She was a unicorn, after all.