“You speak as if you aren’t one of them.”
Shea closed her eyes briefly. There would be a reason for that. She hadn’t meant to say so much, especially not so revealingly, but once she’d started everything else had just come pouring out.
“Well, I’m a throwaway aren’t I?” She gave him a crooked grin. “I don’t really have a people anymore.”
After that, they both kept their own council until the group stopped for the night.
It was freezing when Shea woke, much more so than usual. Though temperatures in the hills tended to drop sharply at night, this wasn’t normal. Her breath created a plume of mist. There was a brittle cracking of frost as she sat up in her blankets.
She shivered sharply and stared down at the rim of white coating every inch of her blanket. She looked over the camp, noting with numb disbelief frost blanketing every still form. Even the wagons had a light coating of silver, and the horses looked like they had been doused with flour. Several had lain down. Their sides barely moved.
The fires had gone out and not a soul stirred.
“Wake up,” her voice came in a hoarse whisper, barely recognizable with how it trembled. She shivered harder and put as much force as possible into it. “Get up.”
She climbed to her feet clumsily and staggered over to Eamon, dropping to one knee beside him. She shook him. “Eamon, you have to get up.”
His eyes fluttered but otherwise there was no response.
She slapped him sharply. “Get up, you slack about.”
“Wha-” His voice was groggy as he tried to shrug her off.
“Eamon, you have to get up. Something’s wrong. Please get up.”
“S-Shane?” She nearly sobbed in relief. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I think whatever it is, is killing us. So you need to get up and help me wake the others.”
Together they staggered from figure to figure, shouting, shaking and slapping to rouse the sleepers.
Shea bent over a man and stumbled back as a shadow moved where no shadow should have been. It rose from the ground, its shape bending and reshaping. She watched it rise, her heart in her throat. A frostling. She’d heard stories. Every Highland child had, but there hadn’t been a sighting in nearly a hundred years.
Pathfinder. You’ve disturbed my meal.
She inched back as it took on the amorphous shape of a small human, no taller than her knee. Had there been any clue in how to fight these things in the stories? Her mind couldn’t think as the temperature dropped lower.
Should you replace it?
Her heart stuttered and thumped as the shape formed a tentacle reaching towards her. She could barely keep her eyes open as it came closer and closer. What had those stories said? She couldn’t remember.
“Shane!”
A bright light came between her and the frostling. It hissed, its voice a sibilant whisper in the dark.
Until next time.
A hand shook her sharply. She blinked dumbly up at the flickering yellow light. Fire. She was so cold.
“Shane, don’t you dare go to sleep.”
A sharp pain landed on both cheeks. Her eyes blinked open. Eamon’s face came into focus.
He slapped her again.
“Eamon, will you please stop hitting me.”
“Shane! Thank the gods, man.” His face was full of concerned relief as she pushed up onto one elbow. “I saw you drop like a rock and thought something had happened.”
“Something did happen.” She rubbed her face, feeling the odd sensation of frost breaking apart under her hand. “Did you see the shadow?”
“What shadow?”
“You didn’t see it then.” She dropped her hand and looked at the torch held in one of his. “Good thing you had that. It’s probably the only thing that saved us.”
“I guess.”
“How are the others?”
He turned to shake the man Shea had intended to wake. “Groggy and confused.” He slapped the man when he didn’t stir and said in a sharp voice. “Get up.” The man didn’t move. Eamon held his fingers against the man’s still neck and then dropped them with a sigh.
“Is he?”
“Yes. He’s dead.”
Shea sat up with a grimace.
“That’s not the only piece of bad news,” Phillip said from the shadows.
Eamon and Shea jumped, their bodies bracing as if for a blow.
Phillip waited until their hearts had settled before saying, “The men on watch are all dead and one is missing.”
“What is going on?” Cale asked as he stormed up to them. A group of men followed, their faces drawn and stiff from the cold.
“We were under attack,” Eamon informed him.
“Attack?”
“Every man on watch is either dead or missing,” Eamon filled him in, helping Shea stand.
The account seemed to shock Cale, and he moved as if he had been struck. His eyes came to rest on Shea, who wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to lock in some of her warmth.
“This is your fault,” he accused. “You’ve led us into a trap.”
The men behind him traded looks, their faces darkening with suspicion before all eyes came back to Shea.
“Don’t be absurd,” she snapped. “I voted for not stopping here. You’re the one who said it was too dangerous to continue after dark.”
“Five of my men have been killed. Someone must answer for this.”
“Well, don’t blame the kid,” Buck said, yawning as he joined them. “He’s the one who woke all our asses up. I don’t think we would have survived if he hadn’t.”
“Perhaps he just wanted to play hero.”
“Careful, there,” Eamon warned. “You’re threatening the reputation of the scouts.”
“Not all scouts, just his.”
“Threaten one, you threaten all,” Eamon rumbled.
There was a quiet moment of strained silence as the two faced off. Then Cale said, “The men will be up and ready to move in half an hour. You’d better be ready, or we’ll leave you and your men behind.”
“You can’t,” Shea warned.
Cale turned and glared at her. “I’m the commander, I can do anything I damn well pleased.”
“I mean you can’t break camp now. We have to wait until morning.”
“If you think I’m going to wait around for those things to come back-“
“Fire,” Shea said interrupting him. “As long as we keep the fires lit they won’t come back.”
Cale hesitated, the promise of safety overriding his need to leave this place behind.
“How sure are you?” Eamon asked softly. “Have you encountered these before?”
She shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard stories. A fire’s warmth is the best way to ward against a frostling.”
“A story?” Cale scoffed. “You’re basing this off a story?”
“Shane hasn’t led us wrong yet,” Eamon said firmly.
“He’s pretty much the expert in beasts,” Buck added.
Shea stood up straight trying to put all the confidence she didn’t feel into her gaze. There was always a chance she was wrong.