The cold was already there as Thalos awoke.
It clung against the walls of the houses, stretched its tendrils through the narrow streets, and turned every moment brittle with its touch.
Above the door a Snowstrider antler pulsed faintly in a stone cradle, casting streaks of blue across the floor and ceiling.
The hum was always there, a low steady sound that was almost comforting.
His breath turned into soft white mist above him.
Outside the village was waking. He could hear the crunch of boots against the snow and the creaking of wagon wheels struggling with their weight.
For a long moment he did not move.
The blanket's warmth was the only thing holding back the cold, but the day would not wait.
He exhaled and shoved back the furs, wincing as the cold wrapped around him.
His feet hit the stone floor with a sting, sending shivers up his spine.
He moved quickly, grabbing his clothes from the small woven basket.
The wool of his tunic was rough against his skin, the cold seeping through small holes that had been mended over countless times.
As he pulled the ties of his cloak into place, he caught his reflection in a shard of polished metal hanging by the door.
His grey eyes, the color of smoked ice, stared back at him beneath dark, tangled hair that never seemed to lie flat.
His face was still lean and unblemished by youth, though the angles had begun to sharpen as he neared his fifteenth year.
He was slim and athletic, he was never broad like Orin or tall like Garrick, but he was Thalos, and he was happy with that.
He slung his satchel over his shoulder, his fingers brushed on the worn leather strap.
His gaze drifted to the window.
Well, the closest thing Frosthelm had to one.
Glass was a luxury of the old world. Instead, stretched hides covered most openings, just thick enough to block the wind but thin enough to let in small rays of sunlight.
Others like this one, were made from the translucent threads of the Frostwidow spider, woven into delicate sheets of ice-silk.
The material shimmered faintly, catching the light and filtering it through in light blue streaks, it was thin but durable.
He watched as a small group of hunters passed by, bows slung across their backs, further back a group of children darting between the houses, Frostfoxes in tow. Obviously up to no good.
He smiled as he turned back to the door.
Today would be another lesson, another story. Before we lived in the north, when we lived alongside the other races. Mistress Elwen would tell it the same way she always did, like she was daring anyone to look away from her.
A voice called from the other side of the doorway, toward the main room.
"Thalos!" His mother.
She always called when he slept in.
He pushed through the hanging furs of the doorway and into the common room.
Smoke was rising from the fire on the other end of the room, with the scent of meat and fresh herbs. The entire common area was lit up by small antlers that were hung up by leather straps.
Liriel stood at the table, slicing dried meat into strips.
A few strands of hair fell from her dark braid, streaked with silver that shone under the soft blue light. She glanced up as he stepped in. Her hazel eyes pressing on him for an answer.
"S…sorry I slept in again." He felt embarrassed.
Without a word she reached for a leather pouch.
She wrapped the meat inside, then added a small round of hunter's loaf, packed with dried fish, root mash, and just enough fat to hold it together.
It wasn't pleasant, but it was filling. She folded a cloth and placed it into his satchel.
"For later," she then sighed.
"Please try not to cause trouble again today. Your father needs help with the fletching."
He avoided eye contact.
"I know. "I know, I promise,"
she gave him a knowing look. "At least try to help your father today."
He ducked out, before she could say another word.
He felt the cold the moment he stepped outside, the wind stung against his face as he pulled his cloak tighter.
He recalled his fathers warnings as he looked out at the wilds surrounding Frosthelm, their green fading to black where the light could no longer reach.
Beyond that the mountains stood tall, their jagged peaks reaching into the sky.
The wolves had been acting strange recently, not just the single wolf creeping to the village's border or the packs stalking the hunters.
Rumors were spreading, and men spoke in low voices about strange sightings and unusual animal activity.
He tried to ignore it and to move on, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the forest.
He walked down the streets, smoke came from chimneys in homes, some houses were buried so far into the snow that he wasn't sure if anyone could even live in them.
And nearby rows of traders set up their stalls, their voices calling to those who walked by.
"You there! You look cold, want a Frostwolf cloak?"
"Hey! Thalos, we just got a supply of fresh meat! Come have a look." He smiled and kept walking.
"Hey, young man, you look like you are in need of a fine sword."
His gaze hovered on that sword a moment longer than he meant to, and now the trader was presenting him with swords, knives, and anything else he might look at.
"No thank you!" As he sped up.
He watched as he passed an artisan's stand.
A middle-aged man was working on carving a small antler, its glow flickered and died.
"Bad omen when the light fades," he whispered.
A pair of tamed Frostfoxes darted out from under the stand. Their silver fur shimmering in the light.
One came to a stop near his feet. Its pale blue eyes tracked his every move, it flicked its ears and bounded off again.
He always found them fascinating, skittish, cunning, and extremely loyal. He always thought there was something extremely intelligent in their eyes.
One day he wanted a Frostfox of his own.
A large crowd was forming at the edge of the market.
The morning snowstrider races had started.
He stopped and smiled, he loved watching the races, he walked to the edge of the crowd, trying to see between their legs.
The long-legged creatures were sleek and fast, and at first glance they looked like large elks. They had massive antlers that were glowing with a subtle blue.
They stamped impatiently as riders adjusted their grips on the reins, pulling them back in line. Many enjoyed betting on these races, it wasn't a race of status. Anyone bold enough could compete.
He saw many young riders challenge Jorn, the current champion, only to end up dismounted, head buried in the snow, their legs the only sign of them left.
he heard the hushed voices of those in the crowd.
"More have gone missing."...
"Can't we do anything?"
He pressed closer,
"The elders need to give us the order to do something."...
"Yeah... more people are going missing. To think Snowfairies would show up here."
Snowfairies? He had heard that name before. He was told stories growing up.
"If you misbehave the fairies will come for you"
He was still in thought, watching the antlers of the Snowstriders. When someone yelled.
"You're walking like an old man! No wonder you're always late!"
He turned just as Garrick jogged up beside him nudging his shoulder hard enough to make Him stumble, his usual grin wide across his face.
His dark blonde hair was a tangled mess that started to freeze at the edges, and his green eyes were filled with mischief.
He was taller than Thalos by a little more than a hand's length, his frame was still wiry and lean.
"I'm pretty sure you miss more classes than I do," Thalos muttered.
"Anyway, why are you up so early?"
"I didn't have a choice" Garrick shrugged
"My father had me stacking leather and hides all morning. You'd think we were selling them to a king the way he scolded me over every mistake"
He rubbed his hands together "I can still smell the tannin"
"I am pretty sure that's just how you always smell," Thalos smirked.
Garrick pushed him lightly
"Yeah, yeah, keep talking and I'll tell Brynn.
'Oh Brynn! The mighty Thalos begs for your company once more! He longs for another one of your legendary adventures!'"
Thalos pushed Garrick "That's enough I actually need to stay out of trouble today"
"Okay whatever you say, but don't come to me when we discover a super cool amazing hideout and you're not invited"
Thalos just smiled and shook his head.
As they walked he heard Garrick humming a tune he didn't recognize.
Anytime Garrick didn't know what to say, he would start humming, he stopped asking long ago.
As they turned past a long house, He looked up and saw the Great Hall ahead, rising above the smaller buildings, its large double wooden doors were already ajar, light passed through the doors as people moved in and out.
Just before reaching the entrance he saw two figures appear from the street leading in from the western side. Brynn and Orin, Already in conversation.
Brynn, as usual, was speaking with her hands, making large wild gestures, her bright red hair catching in the wind adding to the chaotic scene.
Orin walked beside her, his hood from his cloak over his head.
Brynn spotted them first, raised her hand straight in the air, and then brought it down quickly with one finger pointing at Thalos and Garrick.
"They are here Orin!"
Orin looked as though Brynn already dragged him through a pack of snow boars.
"Of course they are here … we all go to school here."
Brynn grabbed Orin's shoulders and shook him "You are so boring! can't you at least pretend to be excited"
Orin sighed "Oh wow... Look our friends"
Brynn stopped shaking him "Fine you are never any fun"
Thalos walked up, seeing Brynn with her arms crossed looking away from Orin, twirling a strand of red hair around one of her fingers, a clear sign she was upset.
"What did you do to him now?"
"I didn't do anything. Because he WON'T do anything"
Garrick started laughing "We can always just bring the fun to him"
Before anyone could answer, Elara stepped out from the doors of the Great hall.
Her dark braids neatly tucked inside her cloak, her eyes narrowing at the group.
"You all are so loud. Are you coming in or just standing outside like idiots"
"Oh yes the only non-idiot is here" Brynn smirked.
The group followed her inside.
The lesson was about to begin.