Frost Winterchase's Arc

Chapter 3 of 8

Caeleth's lessons had begun, but that morning Frost could not practice. A wild serpent had come. It was no thing she made. It was real, sleek and pale, its scales shimmering with frost. It circled the frost trees at the edge of her camp, drawn by her raw magic. When she tried to shape the cold, it hissed and coiled tighter. She could not work with it stalking her. Magnus stomped up through the grass, short and broad, his orange beard stiff with cold. He held an axe. "That thing's been sniffing round camp all night," he said. "Say the word and I'll drop it." "No." Frost put a hand on his arm. The serpent's eyes were bright and watching, not hungry. "It came for the magic. Not for meat. Killing it will only bring more." Caeleth stood at the tree line, still as the ice trees behind him. "She is right," he said. "A blade makes an enemy. She has too many enemies already." "Then what?" Magnus lowered the axe. "You let it settle in?" Caeleth looked at Frost. "You feed it. Not food. Cold. Offer it what it followed here." His eyes lit like lamps. "It is wild magic, same as yours. Answer it in kind." Frost's hands shook. Every time she reached for the cold near the serpent, her instinct was to grip hard, to force a wall between them. She knelt in the frozen grass. The serpent stopped circling. It faced her, breath curling white. She stopped clenching. She let the cold gather slow above her open palms, the way Caeleth had shown her. No wall. No fist. A small serpent formed there, calm, swimming in a loose ring. She did not command it. She only held the door open. The wild serpent lowered its head. It edged closer, scales brushing the grass. Its frost breath drifted over her hands and did not burn. Her little serpent swam out to meet it. The two circled each other, slow, testing. Frost held still and made room. She did not squeeze. The wild serpent pressed its cold snout against her wrist. Then it settled, coiling in the grass beside her, no longer stalking. It watched her work. "There," Caeleth said quietly. "You did not hold it. You let it come." Frost breathed out. For the first time the surrender had felt right in her hands. She looked at the wild serpent resting at her knee and understood. This was the feel of not gripping. She could summon her own pack this way. But the serpent lifted its head suddenly. Its scales bristled. Far off, through the ice, Frost felt it too, a faint drum under the grass. Hooves. Many of them. The riders had crossed onto the ice near the valley. Magnus gripped his axe again. "They found the ridge," he said. "They're coming." Frost stood. Her hands were steady now. The lesson was over, and the hunt had reached her door.