Rosalind Thornwing pressed her red claws against the frozen river and waited for the thaw spell to answer. Nothing came. Her crimson nails stayed cold, and the ice beneath them stayed hard. She was a fairy who could break the eternal winter cursing her homeland. But her magic needed heat to feed it, and she had none. She rubbed her hands together. Her breath hung white in the air. The whole valley lay buried under gray snow. Every stream had stopped moving. Every field slept under frost. Rosalind had promised the villagers she would melt it. Three days now she had tried, and three days her claws had failed. Warmth was the fuel, and warmth was the one thing this dead country did not hold. She followed the frozen river to find any spark of fire. Instead she found a tree. It stood alone in the snow, tall and glowing bright yellow. Purple sparkles drifted around its roots. The tree swayed toward her, though no wind blew. Rosalind touched a shining leaf and felt light, but no heat. The glow was cold as the ice. She let go and shook her head. Then something moved beneath the roots. A puppy crawled out from a hollow in the trunk. It was small, with brown and white fur and a stubby tail. It shook the snow off and looked up at her. In the center of its chest burned a small fire. Real fire. The flame flickered orange and threw warmth across the cold air. Rosalind knelt slowly. "You," she whispered. "You carry a flame." The pup barked and backed away. It did not trust her. Its claws scraped the snow, and the fire in its chest flared brighter when it grew afraid. Rosalind held out one hand and kept it still. She did not grab. She waited. "I won't hurt you," she said. "I need your fire. Not to take it. To borrow it." The pup tilted its head. It sniffed her red claws. Then it crept closer, one step, then another, until its warm chest pressed against her palm. Heat poured into her fingers. Her cold claws began to tingle. Rosalind gasped. She turned toward the frozen river and spread her hand wide. The warmth ran from the pup, through her arm, out through her crimson nails. This time the spell answered. A thin line of ice cracked and melted. Water trickled free and ran downhill for the first time in years. She laughed out loud. The pup wagged its tail. But the flame in its chest had shrunk. The spell had drained it. The little fire now burned low and pale, barely a spark. The pup swayed on its feet and whimpered. Rosalind's smile fell. She had her fuel at last. But every spell she cast would dim this small heart. To thaw a whole country, she would have to spend the one flame keeping the pup alive.