Rose Tolan wanted a crown she had only met in a bedtime story. The rainbow crown, her grandmother used to say, gave its wearer power over every color of magic in Tolania. But Rose didn't know where it sat, who guarded it, or if it was even real. She knew the story by heart and nothing else. She sat cross-legged in the loft bedroom of the log cabin, the family story shirt too big on her shoulders. Her purple bucket hat lay on the bed. Outside the window, the backyard pool held the last orange light. Rose pulled the blanket tight and repeated the story under her breath, hunting for a clue. "Beyond the water, past the sugar hills." That was all the story ever gave. Something thumped downstairs. Rose froze. She crept down the wooden stairs into the kitchen. A purple cat with small dragon wings had knocked a big striped ball across the floor. Beside it sat two matching bowls, one red and one blue, both empty. The creature looked at Rose and licked one paw, not sorry at all. "You're not supposed to be in here," Rose whispered. The cat-dragon batted the ball again. It rolled and stopped against the far wall, next to a door Rose had never opened. She frowned. She had lived here a whole month and never noticed that door. She pushed it. The door swung into a narrow room lined floor to ceiling with bookcases. Heavy chests sat along the bottom, their locks dull with dust. Rose stepped inside. The purple creature slipped past her ankles and hopped onto a low shelf, tail curling around a thin green book. Rose pulled the book free. The cover read Maps of the Colored Kingdoms. Her hands shook. She opened it on the floor and turned the stiff pages until she found a map of Tolania. A blue lake spread across the top. Above the lake, someone had drawn round hills and inked a small word beside them: Sugar. "Beyond the water, past the sugar hills," Rose breathed. The story was real. It was a place. A red X marked the far side of the hills. Under the X, in faded letters, someone had written: crown kept here, guarded. The purple cat-dragon leaned over her shoulder and pressed a paw flat on that exact spot. Then it looked at her, ears forward, like it already knew the way. Rose closed the book and held it to her chest. She was not chasing a bedtime story anymore. She had a map, a marked place, and one word she couldn't shake. Guarded.

Rose pushed open the cabin's back door with the map under her arm. Morning air rushed in and stung her bare legs. She looked down at her thin rainbow shirt, her jean shorts, and her purple sandals. Beyond the pool deck, the ground dropped into rough dirt and gray stones. The trail toward the sugar hills was long, and it looked cold. She could see her breath. She took three steps onto the trail. A sharp rock bit through the sole of her sandal. She hissed and hopped back onto the warm wooden deck. Her toes had already gone red. "I can't walk to the hills like this," she said. The purple cat-dragon trotted out behind her. It sniffed the cold air, sneezed, and shook itself. Then it looked at her sandals, twitched its striped tail, and turned back toward the kitchen. It stopped at the doorway and stared at her, waiting. "You want me to follow?" Rose asked. She stepped inside and closed the door on the cold. The creature led her past the kitchen to the narrow room full of bookcases. Heavy chests lined the bottom shelves. The cat-dragon jumped onto one and patted the dusty lid with a paw. Rose knelt and worked the stiff latch. It gave with a snap. Inside lay folded clothes, packed tight and smelling of cedar. Rose lifted out a pair of tall leather boots, worn soft but strong. Beneath them sat a thick wool coat and two rolled socks. The boots looked her size. Someone in her family had stored these here long ago, ready for a cold road. Rose sat right there on the floor and pulled off her sandals. She tugged the wool socks on, then pushed her feet into the boots. They fit snug around her ankles. She stood and stamped once. No cold seeped through. She wrapped the coat over her rainbow shirt and buttoned it to her chin. She found a canvas bag in the chest too. She packed her sandals, the map, and a spare sock. The cat-dragon watched from the shelf, ears forward, tail curled. "Now I can make it," Rose said. She pressed her purple hat down tight over her red hair. She walked back to the door and opened it again. The cold hit her face, but her feet stayed warm inside the boots. She stepped onto the rough dirt, and the stones no longer stung. She crossed the deck, passed the pool, and reached the head of the trail. The cat-dragon slipped out beside her and padded ahead. It stopped where the dirt turned to loose gravel and looked back to make sure she followed. Rose gripped the strap of her bag and set off. Behind her, the warm cabin shrank. Ahead, the rough road climbed toward the hills, and she was finally dressed to walk it.

The trail climbed for an hour before it split in two. Rose stopped at the fork and looked from one path to the other. The left branch cut up through gray rock. The right branch curved into shadowed pines. She had no idea which one reached the sugar hills. The cat-dragon crouched between them, ears flat, tail twitching. It sniffed the left path, then the right, and made no move. Rose looked at the sky. The sun already dropped toward the peaks. "We have to pick soon," she said. "It gets cold fast up here." She pulled the map from her bag and knelt on the frozen dirt. The lines showed the sugar hills, but not this fork. Her fingers went stiff in the wind. She was about to guess when heavy footsteps crunched behind her. A huge shape came down the right path. He stood taller than any man, covered in shaggy brown fur, with faded overalls stretched across his chest. Rose froze. The cat-dragon puffed up, then sank down, calm. The creature carried a bundle of firewood under one arm as if it weighed nothing. "Lost, are you?" he asked. His voice was low and easy. He set the wood down. "Not many folk take this trail. Name's Sassy Jones. You look half-froze." Rose gripped her map. "I need the sugar hills. Before dark. But the trail splits and I don't know which way." Sassy Jones crouched to see the map. His finger, thick as a branch, tapped the paper. "The left rock climbs quick, but it dead-ends at a cliff. Sun sets, you'd be stuck on bare stone." He pointed to the right path. "Pines take longer. But it wraps around and climbs steady. That's your road to the hills." "You're sure?" Rose asked. "I walk it every week for firewood." He stood and hoisted his bundle. "Come on. I'll set you past the worst of it. Can't leave a kid to freeze out here." Rose looked at the cat-dragon. It rose and trotted straight onto the right path, tail up now, sure of itself. That settled her. "Okay. Thank you." They walked into the pines. Sassy Jones broke the wind with his wide back, and the going felt warmer. He pushed a fallen branch off the trail with one hand. The path bent and rose, just as he'd promised. After a while the trees thinned, and Rose saw pale slopes ahead, soft and white, catching the last light. "There," Sassy Jones said. "Sugar hills. I turn off here." He pointed to a narrow side track. "Keep the cat-dragon close. Those hills look sweet, but the cold up top bites harder than any dog." He lumbered off with his firewood. Rose stood at the edge of the pines, the hills glowing before her. She had made the right fork. But the sun was almost gone, and the wide white slopes offered no shelter for the night ahead.

Rose stood at the edge of the pines and watched the last light drain from the hills. The wind cut through her coat. The cat-dragon pressed against her leg, shivering. She turned in a slow circle. No cave, no ledge, no tree big enough to block the cold. Her breath came out in white clouds. She had reached the sugar hills, but the hills wanted to freeze her. "We keep moving," she said. Her voice shook. "If we stop, we get cold." She trudged up the nearest slope, boots sinking in the crusted snow. The cat-dragon whined and lagged behind. Rose scooped it up and tucked it inside her coat. Its heart beat fast against her chest. Twice she stumbled. The dark grew thick. She had no plan left but to walk until she found something. Then a small dog burst over the rise. It was a brown-and-white chihuahua, ears up, barking sharp and quick. It circled Rose's feet, then ran a few steps and looked back. "You want me to follow?" Rose asked. The dog barked again and bolted. She had no better idea, so she ran after it. The chihuahua led her around the shoulder of a hill. A warm orange light glowed ahead. Beside it stood a small halfling woman, brown hair pulled into a topknot, a forked walking stick planted in the snow. She was crouched by a fire, feeding it sticks. When Rose appeared she didn't flinch. She grinned. "Well, Mocha found something better than a rabbit," the halfling said. She stood and leaned on her stick. "Name's Jackie Lightfoot. You're blue as a plum, girl. Sit before you fall down." Rose dropped by the fire. Heat washed over her stiff hands. The cat-dragon crawled out of her coat and stretched toward the flames. Jackie set a red bowl down for the dog, crisp bacon stacked high, a blue bowl of water beside it. Mocha dug in. "Camp's simple," Jackie said, "but the fire's real and there's room in the tent." "I thought I was going to freeze," Rose said. Her teeth still chattered. "You nearly did." Jackie tossed her a wool blanket. "Nobody sleeps rough on the sugar hills and wakes up. What's a kid doing up here alone?" Rose pulled the map from her bag and smoothed it by the firelight. She pointed past the hills, to the X. "I'm going there. For the rainbow crown." Jackie leaned close. Her grin faded to something sharper. She tapped the mark. "I know that spot. I've been near it." She looked up at Rose. "It's guarded. Two of us have a chance the paths won't give one. I'm coming with you." Rose stared at the fire, warm at last. She had survived the night. And she was no longer climbing toward the crown alone.

Morning light spread across the sugar hills. Rose woke by the dead fire and stretched her stiff arms. The cat-dragon curled against her side, warm and purring. Jackie was already up, packing her tent. Rose reached for her bag and checked inside. She found the map, a spare sock, and nothing to eat. Her stomach growled. The crown lay days away across the snow. She had no food for the trek. "Jackie," Rose said. "I didn't bring any food. Not for one day, let alone the whole way." Jackie stopped rolling her tent. Her grin dropped. "Days out there with nothing? That's a graveyard walk." She dug through her own pack and pulled out a heel of bread and two strips of dried meat. "This is all I've got. It won't feed two people and a dragon past tomorrow." Rose's chest tightened. She had survived the cold night only to face starving on the trail. The chihuahua barked and ran a few steps, then looked back. Rose knew that look. "Mocha wants us to follow again," she said. She got to her feet. Jackie grabbed her walking stick. "That dog found you in the dark. I'd bet on his nose." They followed Mocha over the rise. The small dog led them to a flat rock beside a windbreak of stones. On the rock sat a large basket, purple and blue, its handle wrapped tight. Beside it stood a blue thermos. Rose lifted the lid. The basket was packed full. Sandwiches wrapped in paper. Red apples. A loaf of crusty bread. Bags of crackers. Purple grapes. Her mouth watered. She unscrewed the thermos and steam rose from hot coffee. "Who leaves this out here?" Rose asked. A deep voice answered from behind the stones. "A friend who figured you'd need it." The large fur-covered creature stepped into the light. Rose knew him at once. He had guided her past the cliffs to these hills. Sassy Jones crouched by the rock, his overalls dusted with snow. "Saw your fire last night. Two travelers heading past the hills need more than a campfire." He patted the basket. "Packed it myself. Enough for the long stretch." Rose threw her arms around his thick arm. "Thank you. We had nothing." "Now you've got plenty." Sassy Jones stood. "But hear me. The ground past here turns to ice. That basket keeps you fed. It won't keep you standing on a frozen slope." He pointed toward the white ridge ahead. "Watch your footing. One slip out there and food won't save you." Jackie hoisted the basket. She tested its weight and nodded. "Heavy, but worth it." She looked at Rose. "We eat now, then move." Rose bit into a sandwich. Her fear of starving fell away. But she stared at the ice-covered ridge Sassy Jones had warned about. Food was solved. The frozen slope ahead was not.

Rose and Jackie finished eating and packed the basket. Then they reached the ice-covered ridge Sassy Jones had warned about. The slope shone like glass. A steep drop fell away on one side. Rose set one boot on the ice and slid at once. Jackie caught her sleeve and hauled her back. "See? One slip and you're gone," Jackie said. Her walking stick scraped the frozen ground. "We can't cross this on foot." The purple cat-dragon paced the edge and whined. Mocha barked at the ice, then backed away. Rose stared at the ridge. Days of travel meant nothing if they died in the first hundred steps. She had no rope, no picks, nothing to grip the ice. "Figured you'd stall here." The deep voice came from behind. Sassy Jones climbed the rise, snow on his fur, a heavy bundle slung over one shoulder. He had guided Rose past the cliffs to these hills and packed her food for the trail. Now he set the bundle down and unrolled it. Inside lay climbing gear. A coiled rope with a hooked end. Two harnesses. Boots with metal spikes at the toe. "Spiked boots bite the ice," Sassy Jones said. He tapped a spike. "The rope ties you two together. One slips, the other holds." He looked at Jackie. "That's why the path needs two." Rose knelt and pulled the spiked boots over her own. Jackie strapped a harness around her waist and cinched it tight. Sassy Jones knotted the rope between them, testing each loop with his huge hands. "Short line," he said. "Stay close. Kick your toes in with every step." Rose stepped onto the ice again. This time the spikes gripped. She kicked her toe down and the metal held. Jackie moved behind her, stick planted, rope taut between them. The cat-dragon glided over the ridge on small wings and waited on the far side. Mocha trembled at the edge until Jackie scooped him into her vest. Halfway across, Rose's back foot slipped. Her stomach lurched toward the drop. The rope snapped tight. Jackie dug in her spikes and her stick, and the line held Rose upright. "Kick in," Jackie said, steady. Rose jammed her toe into the ice and found her footing. Step by step, they crossed. Rose's boots bit the last stretch. She stepped onto bare rock and pulled the rope, dragging Jackie up beside her. They stood on solid ground, breathing hard. The deadly ridge lay behind them. Rose turned to thank Sassy Jones, but he was already a shape far back on the ice, one arm raised. She waved. Ahead, the trail dropped into a shadowed pass between two peaks. The cat-dragon flew that way, then stopped short. Below them, the snow was churned with wide, clawed tracks. Something large had crossed here, and not long ago.

The clawed tracks led straight into the pass. Rose crouched and pressed a hand into one print. It was wide as a dinner plate, the snow still soft at the edges. The creature had passed here minutes ago, not hours. She looked up the narrow gap between the peaks, where shadow swallowed the trail. She could not tell if the thing waited ahead. "We can't just walk in blind," Rose said. Her breath fogged the cold air. The pass was the only way through. Turning back meant crossing the deadly ridge again with nothing to show for it. Jackie knelt beside her, brown eyes on the tracks. She had joined Rose at the sugar hills campfire, saying the path ahead needed two to survive. Now she planted her walking stick and studied the prints. "Look how they turn," she said. "It went in, but the snow's kicked back here. Something scared it off its own path." She stood and pointed with her stick. Just past the first bend, a small pile sat on a flat rock. Bread, dark grapes, nuts, wrapped in a green leaf. Rose crept closer. The food was fresh, set out with care, like an offering for a hungry traveler. Beside it lay a sword. The blade was black and purple, sharp as glass, half buried in snow. Someone had left both here on purpose. "That's bait," Jackie whispered. "Or a peace gift." She nudged the leaf with her stick. Nothing moved. The chihuahua poked his head from her vest, sniffed, then whined and burrowed back down. The purple cat-dragon circled overhead, then landed on the rock and sat by the food, calm. Rose watched the little dragon. It knew the way to the crown. It had guided her this far without fear. If it settled here, the danger had passed. She let out a slow breath and reached for the sword. The grip fit her hand. The blade came free of the snow, lighter than it looked. "Whoever left this wanted us armed," Rose said. "The creature's gone. It fled through the far side." She pointed the blade up the trail. Fresh tracks led out the other end of the pass, deep and hurried, running away from them. Jackie grinned. "Then we eat first." She unwrapped the leaf and split the bread. They shared the food on the rock while the cat-dragon nibbled a grape. Rose sheathed nothing, for the sword had no sheath. She carried it bare in one hand as they walked into the pass. The shadows held no monster. They stepped out the far end onto open snow. Ahead, the ground fell away into a white valley. Far below, dark shapes moved along the trail, more of the clawed creatures, a whole pack, right across the only road forward. Rose gripped the sword tighter. The pass was behind them. The pack was ahead.

Rose crouched at the top of the slope and counted the shapes on the road below. Six clawed creatures paced across the only path forward. She held the black-purple sword tight, but one blade against six was no plan at all. Jackie knelt beside her, walking stick ready, brown eyes narrow. The cat-dragon pressed flat against Rose's leg, its ears back. Its fear told Rose everything. This time the danger had not passed. "We can't fight through," Jackie whispered. "And there's no way around. That road is it." Behind them, snow crunched. Rose spun, sword up. A huge shape stepped from the pass, taller than any man, covered head to foot in brown fur. He wore faded overalls and moved without a sound despite his size. Rose had never seen him before, but she knew his kind. Sassy Jones was one too, and Sassy had only ever helped her. She lowered the blade a little. "Timber Kindpaw," the giant said. "Looking for a lost guide. Frost tonight." His eyes went to the road, then the creatures. "Bad spot." "They're blocking our only way," Rose said. "We have to get past." Timber studied the pack. "They're not hunting. They're waiting." He pointed one thick finger. Near the creatures, a small boy stood frozen on the road, dressed in a black cape and vest, a pumpkin bucket clutched in both hands. He had wandered right into the middle of them. "That's who they smell. Sweets." Rose's stomach dropped. The boy stared at the creatures, too scared to run. The pack circled closer, noses lifting toward the candy in his bucket. "They want the food," Rose said fast. "Not him." Timber nodded once. "Then give it." Rose slid down the slope, sword in one hand, heart pounding. Jackie followed, stick swinging to keep the creatures back. The boy saw them and sobbed. "They won't stop sniffing me," he cried. "Throw the candy," Rose said. "Hard as you can, off the road." The boy hurled his whole bucket into the deep snow past the trail. Wrapped sweets scattered across the white. The pack broke instantly. Six clawed shapes bounded off the road, snapping and digging for the candy, tumbling over each other in the drifts. The road stood open. Timber scooped the boy up in one arm like he weighed nothing. "Move," he said. Rose grabbed Jackie's hand and ran. The cat-dragon shot ahead, leading them down the cleared path while the creatures fought over the sweets behind them. They did not stop until the road curved and the pack was out of sight. Timber set the boy down and knelt. "Name?" "Tommy," the boy said, wiping his eyes. "I got lost trick-or-treating." Rose looked back the way they'd come. The road ahead was clear now, but Tommy had no way home, and frost was coming. She could not leave a lost child on the mountain. Her path to the crown ran forward. So did his only chance.