Something about that makes my throat tighten, but I push the feeling down. I focus on the way the snow glitters faintly in the sunlight, like dusted glass.
He’s quiet for a long moment, just looking at me with those icy, blue eyes. He reaches out slowly and cups the back of my neck. His thumb brushes over my pulse point.
“Ael’thrûn kaelor vesk’thral... vael’etra narh’sekai velorin thral’kaen ves.” He murmurs. (I was wrong to hold too tightly... but I’ll never stop being your shield.)
“I'm sorry,” he says quietly. ”I know I overstep. Watch too closely. But it's only because the thought of losing you unravels something primordial in me.”
His forehead presses gently to mine, our breath turning to frost between us.
“You are the only thing in this world I cannot survive without.”
His thumb strokes once more, then he drops his hand. “Come on.”
His voice is softer now. “You wanted to go on a walk, remember?”
“Lead the way,” I mumble.
He walks a few steps ahead of me, one hand occasionally brushing low-hanging branches out of the way. His fingers move carefully, like even the leaves deserve gentleness.
The snow isn’t as deep as before, which makes it much easier for me to trek through. The air smells faintly sweet and earthy; it works wonders on my racing thoughts. I inhale deep lungfuls to clear my mind.
I expected to hear birdsong or squirrel chatter, but it’s like everything is silently watching us instead.
He hasn’t said much since we left the cabin, but he keeps glancing back to make sure I’m warm enough. I think about pelting him with a snowball a few times, but decide against it—for now.
“This part of the woods is...different,” He says quietly. “They’ve been expecting you.”
“They?”
He doesn’t answer. He merely steps between two leaning birches that arch together like pillars of a forgotten temple, and disappears into the gloom.
I hesitate.
He wouldn’t hurt me, I know that, but something about his words makes me nervous.
“Are you coming?” he calls.
I step through the archway, and the shift is immediate. The air on this side is frigid, like sinking in deep water. The light above me becomes a distant, hazy memory, replaced by a dim filtered glow that makes the trees look like skeletons rising from the dark; their trunks are black with silver glowing threads winding up the bark like frozen rivers reaching for the sky.
A frantic flutter pulses behind my sternum, not fear exactly, but something akin to gravity—a pull. Like I’ve crossed some invisible boundary where the rules of the world no longer apply, and my heart has decided it belongs to the shadows in front of me, instead of the ribs within me.
Movement to my left catches my attention, quick and low to the ground. I turn, catching only a blur of silver fur and snow scatter. There’s stillness again, and then—Chirp. I squint, searching the area for whatever made the sound. A tiny shape flits toward me, glowing faintly. It lands gracefully on my shoulder, soft as a snowflake.
I freeze and search for Andrik.
It chirps again.
“Uhh, Andrik...I think I’m being attacked.”
He steps in front of me, eyes wide.
“Is this normal?”
It chirps twice, as if answering my question.
“She chose you,” he says in awe.
“She?”
