Guardian Frostroot planted his trunk-legs in the open snow and tried to stand his watch. The sun climbed toward noon. He felt his shoulder soften. A drop slid down his red nose. He wanted to root here forever, to be the forest's eternal guardian, but the field gave him no shade. Boreas appeared beside him, calm as falling snow. "You can't hold ground here," he said. "Honestly? I don't know how long you'd last past midday." Frostroot nodded slowly. Water beaded along his arm. A low voice slid from the drift behind them. "You melt. I wait." Frostfang coiled in the glare, blue eyes steady. He did not strike. He only watched the dripping snowman with cold certainty. Boreas lifted his palm and pulled a small hut from the air, its walls rippling and sealed against heat. He set it over Frostroot's post. The dripping stopped. Frostroot stood inside the shimmer, firm again, his watch now fixed to one chosen spot. Frostfang uncoiled and slipped away, unhurried, leaving a single thought behind: the shelter held the sun out, but it also held Frostroot in.