Frost Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Frost ran hard down the path. The sky above her had gone pale gold. That was wrong. The hour was almost spent. She pushed faster, her breath sharp and white. Then she saw it. The cracked stone arch rose ahead, its ice-blue surface webbed with deep fractures. The boundary was thinning. If she missed the hour, the arch would close, and his window to wait would close with it. She broke through the trees. The log cabin glowed beyond the clearing, its windows warm, its roof heavy with snow. On the bench beside it sat a folded wool scarf, stiff with ice, snowflakes stitched along its edge. He had left it there. He had gone. Frost dropped to her knees and pressed the scarf to her chest. The light bled out of the sky. She had reached the bench. She had missed him by minutes.