Serenity Winterfox had led many lost travelers across the Permafrost, but today the Permafrost tried to take her instead. She was small and old, wrapped in a coat of fox pelts that faded from blue to white. Her walking stick hung with crystals that usually sang in the wind. Now they rang wild and useless. A whiteout blizzard had swallowed the trail. Snow struck her face sideways. She could not see her own hand. The cold reached through the fur and into her bones. She knew this land better than anyone living. That was why the lost came to her. Somewhere out here waited a traveler she had promised to guide, one person who needed the truth that could mend this broken country. But a truth does no good from a frozen woman. She had to live first. Serenity stopped fighting the wind. Standing still, she pressed the crystals of her stick against her lips. She did not shout. She breathed a low note into them, the old call her mother taught her, the one that woke the deep ice. The crystals warmed. Their ringing steadied into one clear tone that cut through the storm. She waited. The cold climbed her legs. Her fingers stopped feeling the stick. Then a shape broke the white. It came slow and certain, far larger than any wolf. A glacier elk stepped close, its pale coat catching what little light remained. Branching antlers rose above it like clear crystal, glinting even in the gloom. It lowered its great head and looked at her with cool, patient eyes. "You heard me," Serenity said. Her voice shook. "Old friend. I cannot find the way." The elk turned its body sideways, offering its warm flank. Serenity gripped the thick fur at its shoulder and leaned her weight against it. Heat moved into her stiff fingers. The animal began to walk, and she walked with it, one hand buried in its coat, the other on her stick. The blizzard still screamed, but the elk never slowed. It stepped around drifts she could not see. It knew where the ground held firm. They walked for a long time. Serenity counted her breaths to stay awake. Then the elk stopped. Ahead, a soft gold light glowed through the snow. Serenity blinked the ice from her lashes. A small house stood there, built of white crystal, its frosted walls shining warm from within. Light poured from its windows and doors onto the snow. She had not known any shelter stood in this stretch of the Permafrost. The elk pressed its nose once against her shoulder, then stepped back into the storm and was gone. Serenity staggered to the glowing door and pushed it open. Warmth wrapped around her. She was alive, and she was no longer alone in the white. But the house was not empty. Someone sat inside by the light, waiting, and turned to look at her.