Firestone Hot Springs and them of us that's too weak

this time, colt briggs led @Sadey and @Lonesome Dove with a sense of direction and purpose. they'd come down from those damned mountains only three strong, but he'd be cursed himself if he was losing another again.
and the others, well. briggs knew they'd be along directly.
reno was well. red wasn't dead. nothing could kill gun. and dagur was born to the life like he had been birthed inside a camp itself.
"west," down from the ridge and into a flat plain of snow. forced to camp in the shadow of the mountains for that night, colt had stayed up into the small hours on watch.
then off again, west till colt felt their direction from the creek had become too direct.
and so he pushed them into a southwest wanderin' only sadey might understand, though by the end of it lonesome would too, the cold camps and cold meat they ate to keep from spreading blood, the water they drank to fill bellies cramping with hunger. 
colt bypassed the gorge but sent the gang up along the narrow banks until whitewater smoothed to something travelable. then "in," a half day's scent of paws washed away by the frigid water. one-eared colt, bringing up the rear, turning from time to time to look, to scrub his tongue across yellow teeth before he turned back, keeping sadey and dove in sight.
paws aching, they rested on the banks of that cold river. in the morning they pushed on, taking turns walking in the frozen scrub at the edges of the water, mingling and erasing scents.
snow rose and stung his face. another storm. he found a chunk of rock against which he meant to hunker until it passed. then up again, always forward.
and they were indeed rewarded, rewarded by a holy thrum of heat through the icy air. pushing toward it, pushing on, until the snow suddenly fell and their steaming breaths stood melting in a place of hotness, an oasis in the middle of dropping temperatures and an oncoming blizzard threatening to scour the flatlands.
the wind howled outside the wall of stone studded by steam-wreathed pools.
"here."
his crimson eyes roved over them for word or for injury.