Chapter 10 – Frozen and Forgotten
The wind bit sharper the farther east he went.
The trees here grew taller, darker, like skeletal sentries watching from a distance.
Snow clung thicker to the undergrowth, crunching beneath Caleb's boots with each step.
His breath fogged the air, and every exhale reminded him he was still alive — for now.
Hours passed beneath the grey sky.
Caleb tracked the faint terrain as best he could, using the moss on trees and the slope of the land.
The ruins were ahead. He could feel it.
And the faint pulse from the hint that had vanished lingered like a phantom memory, tugging at his thoughts.
Around midday, the forest stirred.
A grunt.
Low. Heavy. Close.
Caleb froze.
Not even ten meters ahead, a second boar stood half-shrouded behind a snow-covered bush, tusks frosted, eyes narrow.
This one was smaller than the last, but fast — young, agile, and furious.
It charged.
Caleb sidestepped just in time, snow flying, and drove his spear into its side.
The boar shrieked, the sound sharp and almost human, before it collapsed in the churned snow.
A single gash, clean and deep, did the job.
He didn't stay to butcher it.
He had no space to carry more meat, and the ruins were calling.
Still, the second kill sent a soft tone ringing in his ears — and with it, another tiny reward: a frostshard.
Just one.
He tucked it away and moved on.
By the time he saw the edge of the ruins, dusk was creeping over the treetops.
Stone arches jutted from the snow like broken ribs.
A crumbled spire leaned westward, half-swallowed by frost and time.
It was ancient — a fragment of something sacred, now entombed in ice.
Then he heard the dragging.
Caleb stopped.
At first, he thought it was the wind scraping ice from stone.
But the sound had rhythm.
A slow, wet shuffle, accompanied by a low, almost wheezing moan.
It came from behind one of the ruined walls.
He stepped closer, grip tightening on his spear.
And then it emerged.
A man — or what had once been one.
His face was blue, lips blackened, skin tight against bone.
Frost clung to his eyelids, but his eyes still moved — wide, searching, desperate.
What little clothing he had was frozen to his body, skin breaking in places where ice had split the flesh.
And yet he walked.
Or dragged, rather — one leg half-frozen stiff, the other twitching unnaturally.
The thing looked up at Caleb.
Its mouth opened, tongue grey and cracked.
No words came out.
Just a gurgle — and then, a lunge.
Caleb struck out of reflex, the spear punching into the thing's chest.
It didn't stop.
He shoved, twisted, pulled — and then jabbed again, this time through the throat.
The corpse fell, twitching.
Then stilled.
Silence returned.
Caleb stood over it, chest heaving, watching the last bits of cold vapor slip from its mouth.
He didn't speak.
Didn't mourn.
But something in him twisted.
Who had this man been?
How long had he wandered like that — frozen, lost, hungry for warmth?
Caleb took a shaky breath and turned away.
"It was me or you," he muttered.
The spear dripped slowly.
He wiped it on the snow and pressed forward.
The ruins awaited.
End of 10th chapter.