Frost & Shadow

Chapter Two:

I moved through the snow-blanketed forest with my fingertips already numb. The air bit through every layer of wool and leather I had, each breath sliding into my lungs like broken glass. It hadn’t snowed in weeks—too cold even for that—but the land wore a hard, frozen shell. My boots cracked the crust with every step, the brittle surface giving way to swallow my feet in softer powder beneath. Each time I sank, I cursed under my breath—at the snow, at myself, and at Cole for setting the trap so far from home.

My mind swirled with the thoughts of how this area used to be, how beautiful, warm and crisp the leaves felt crunching under your boots.

Sometimes the air was cool, drifting over the small rolling hills like a gentle breath, the sun warming it as it brushed tenderly against the skin. The water, on the rare warm days, was inviting enough to take a dip, to loosen muscles locked tight by the day’s work.

Nights were chilled, though a single extra layer and a small fire kept a cottage comfortable through the darkness. The grass and flowers bloomed in abundance, constantly needing trims. The gardens offered vegetables that fed the village when coins were scarce, sustaining families through hard times.

But not lately - For months, the cold had been relentless. Though these lands had enjoyed long autumns for centuries, now frost and ice clung to every surface. The air was sharp enough to snuff out a fire in the dead of night and seep through even several layers of clothing. Rivers, once a place to bathe, were frozen or icy enough to make even the bravest shiver, requiring hours of heating over the fire to warm. The vegetables withered long ago, and the fields, springs, and gardens lay buried beneath the unyielding snow.

Some were fortunate, born into wealth. They had sprawling homes with rooms easily warmed, and central hearths that glowed throughout the day and night. But not our family. We survived by the skill and determination of Cole and I, gathering wood and trapping game to keep hunger and frost at bay. Our parents worked tirelessly in the town square, bringing home two or three coins a week, taking any job they could—repairing houses, selling pelts, or trading herbs. Sometimes, if luck smiled, they could buy cocoa seeds from the traveling merchants.

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It felt like I had been walking for hours, threading between ice-laced trunks and over silvered clearings, always pushing upstream, toward the place where the river still fought stubbornly against the frost. At last, the trap came into view. The forest was deathly still here, as if even sound had frozen solid—until a faint rustle ahead made me drop low, flattening myself against a branch heavy with ice.

My knife already in hand, and edged forward through the crusted undergrowth. My breath fogged hot against my scarf as I pushed through the branches, pulse skittering against my ribs.

Then I saw it.

For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks. It couldn’t be. None of them had been seen since the frost claimed the land. I blinked, waiting for the illusion to break. Then the animal shifted, a frightened whimper breaking the stillness, and all doubt fell away.

A deer lay tangled in our snares. The stake had cut deep—meant to wound, not kill—but the snow was spattered red around it, startling and obscene against the white. Ropes bit into one hind leg, and its shuddering breaths came ragged, weaker with each pull of its chest.

I tightened my grip on the knife, inching closer. The deer bucked once beneath my hand, then went still as my palm found its flank. It flinched but didn’t thrash. Its wide, luminous eyes lifted to mine, and for an instant I swore it was looking straight into me. There was no wild terror there—only confusion, pain. Not afraid. And that meant it wasn’t used to hunters. Which meant… it didn’t belong here.

My frozen fingers traced the short, warm fur along its side. The heat in its body startled me. It shouldn’t have been here, but it was, breathing stubborn warmth into a world that had none left. My gaze followed the tracks leading back toward the mountains, into heights the villagers had abandoned long ago. Nothing lived up there now. Nothing should have come down.

Practical thoughts intruded. A deer meant food—days of it. It meant coin in town, enough for rope or flour. But it was too heavy for me to lift. I’d have to drag it.

The animal’s breath rattled, and my stomach clenched. Whether I spared it or not, it would die out here—alone, bleeding. I steadied my hand against its head, smoothing soft circles against its fur until its frantic eyes half-closed. My other hand wrapped around the knife.

I’d never gotten used to killing. No matter how many times, a piece of me recoiled, something small and stubborn that still hated it. But I’d learned mercy: quick, sure, no hesitation.

I planted the blade beneath its chin, braced myself, and whispered, “Thank you. For keeping us alive.”

The knife drove upward. The deer gave one terrible cry before slumping, its head falling into the snow. I forced myself not to turn away. My stomach heaved, bile bitter in my throat, but I kept still until its body quieted.

My hands moved on instinct—wiping the blade against my sleeve, sliding it back into its sheath. I untied the knots, one by one, numb fingers fumbling until the rope fell away and the deer’s body folded awkwardly to the ground. For a long moment I pressed my forehead against its flank, feeling its warmth leach into the cold air, and then I pushed myself to stand.

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Dragging it was worse than I’d imagined. The rope from the trap cut into my glove as I hauled the body behind me. At least the snow worked in my favor—slick enough that the carcass slid easier than it ever would have on summer ground. But summer was gone. If summer still existed, I wouldn’t be out here fighting frost and hunger.

Each step was a battle. The crust snapped under my boots, powder puffing upward to dust my lashes. Wind cut straight through my clothes, stinging my cheeks and watering my eyes. My lungs burned like fire with every breath, the air so sharp it tore my throat raw. Within an hour I was drenched in sweat, muscles aching, teeth chattering despite the heat my body bled. I groaned, shoving the rope higher onto my shoulder.

Darkness was coming. I’d promised Cole I’d be home before then. I couldn’t risk the wolves.

But I couldn’t leave the deer either. The cold wouldn’t spoil it, but the wolves would. They’d strip it clean, leave nothing. Already I thought I could hear them—those monstrous things that had come with the frost, larger and bolder than the wolves Father once chased from our fields. The villagers whispered of their glowing eyes, of how they hunted in silence until they were upon you. I’d never met them up close, and I prayed I never would.

Step by step, I dragged the weight. My muscles screamed, my lungs slashed with every inhale, and still I moved. Snow sprayed with every heave, sticking to my lashes until the world blurred white. My knees buckled more than once, but I caught myself, gritting my teeth, refusing to stop.

At last—mercifully—I stumbled out of the trees. The road lay ahead, pale and familiar. Fence posts broke the endless white, guiding me like anchors home. I clutched one, steadied myself, and muttered through my teeth, “Move my hand, step, pull. Move my hand, step, pull.” The words dragged me forward as surely as the rope did.

The howls rose behind me, long and low, and my body surged with fear. I pulled harder, faster. Just a little longer. Just a little more, and we would eat again.

And then—light. The glow of our cottage flickered through the gray. Home. Fire. Shelter.

A shadow moved in that light, and I nearly wept with relief. Cole. He ran to me, hands warm against my frozen cheeks, tilting my face up. My vision swam, but I saw the worry in his eyes.

“It’s dark, Laine. You said you’d be back by dark,” he murmured, already pulling the rope from my useless hands.

“Just… shut up and help me,” I panted, stumbling forward as he dragged the deer toward the door.

“Where did you find this? It shouldn’t be here—how could it be here?” His questions swam over me. I had no strength left to answer. I just kept moving.

Inside, there were hands everywhere—Mother pulling off my frozen clothes, boots tugged away, blankets wrapped tight. The smell of woodsmoke and stew enveloped me.

“My girl,” Mother whispered, pressing a bowl of broth against my lips, tipping it gently. “I don’t know how you found that deer, or how you managed to bring it back—but we’re grateful.”

Her words stayed with me long after exhaustion dragged me under, the fire’s warmth soaking into my bones as the frost finally loosened its hold.