Bart Belly's Arc

Chapter 6 of 21

Bart ran across the open snow with the golden Speedo clutched to his chest. Behind him a deep roar rolled over the ice. He looked back. The yeti had crawled from its den. It stood tall against the gray sky, snow caught in its wild mane, chunks of blue ice studding its heavy limbs. It lowered its nose to the ground. Then it followed Bart's fresh tracks, each stride longer than his own. Bart's paws punched deep prints into the snow. Every print was a mark the giant could read. He could not run faster than it. He could not hide his trail. The yeti closed the gap with each breath. It wanted the Speedo back, and it would take Bart with it. He scanned the white waste for anything. A shape rose ahead through the falling snow. A castle of snow and ice stood on the flat ground. Layered domes climbed toward the sky. Frosted towers spiraled at each corner. Thick doors sat shut in the front wall. Bart drove his legs harder and ran straight for it. He hit a hard crust of packed snow near the castle. His prints stopped sinking. The trail he left grew faint. Bart cut sharp to the left and circled the ice wall. Then he pressed his back flat against the cold stone beside the doors and went still. His heart slammed. He gripped the Speedo tight. The yeti reached the castle. It stopped where the deep tracks ended. Its orange eyes swept the crust. It sniffed the air. It turned one way, then the other, and found no clear path. A low growl shook its chest. It could not tell which way Bart had gone. Bart waited. Snow fell on his shoulders. He did not move a muscle. The yeti stamped once, then turned back toward its den. It shrank into the falling snow until the white swallowed it. The roar faded. Bart let his breath out slow. He had lost the giant. The Speedo was still his. He slid down the wall and sat in the snow. His legs shook. Then one of the great doors creaked open behind him. Warm light spilled onto the ice. Bart scrambled to his feet and spun around. Inside stood a wide hall. A wooden chest sat open on the floor. Fresh flowers spilled over its lid, red and gold and purple, thick as a summer garden. Roses. Bright blooms of every kind. Bart stared. He had lost the crystal bloom for King Stormy in the den. Here was a whole chest of them, safe from the yeti, worth more than any bag. He stepped through the doors. Then a cold voice spoke from the shadows beyond the chest. "Those blooms are not yours to take," it said. Bart froze in the doorway, the Speedo in his paws, and searched the dark for the speaker.