fog, the tendrils of which are beginning to tickle at my nose. I move my head from left to right. Everything is so much slower than before. My neck... It’s as though it’s made of ice. My eyelids are stuck, with the lashes fusing together. My lips are the same—sewn shut by some mysterious force.
The most sound I can make is a muted humming in my throat. My fingers are stiff around the hilt of my dagger, and despite moving my eyes as much as I can, I can’t prise them open. It’s pointless. I’ve failed already by letting my father’s memory down. Norton was right; we never should have come to the Waerg Woods. I think of the prince frozen next to me and think of what I’ve robbed from the realm. I’m nothing but a selfish girl for letting him come with me. I lean into the fog, ready to let it take me.
Just as I find my body shutting down from the cold, a warm tongue licks the back of my neck. Anta. He hasn’t given up on me yet. The sensation ignites a fire inside me. That fire spreads through my muscles, awakening them, and suddenly I have the ability to fight again.
It begins with my eyes. I flutter my eyelids, concentrating on my need to see the forest again. When they are open, I realise that the fog has almost completely surrounded us. Prince Casimir is covered with a shimmering blue frost from head to toe.
“Mm... mmm... mmoo... C... as-im-ir,” I say, forcing my lips apart. The sound begins in my throat but I push it out, finally finding my voice. “Casimir! F-f-fight it!” Beneath his lids I make out a slight movement. He’s conscious—that’s a start.
After my eyes and mouth are free, I concentrate on moving my fingers. But I need Casimir to stay with me, so I find myself chattering to him, saying anything and everything I can think of.
“The fog is trying to freeze you. It’s trying to stop your muscles from working. Keep moving. Keep trying to move. Think about how much you want to move. Work on your eyes first, Casimir. You can do it. Don’t give up. Don’t let the cold take you.”
My fingers flex against my dagger. It’s small, but it’s a start, and I strain to move my forearm. If I can move that arm I can stab the fog. Something about the incisions from my dagger makes the fog retract. Perhaps it is a living organism, even though it looks like nothing of the sort. Either way, our only hope is to try and fight back.
“Casimir, I can move my arm again. I think I can attack the fog. Keep trying to open your eyes. I... I can push my arm forwards. Maybe I can stop it.”
My eyes stay focussed on the prince. I can’t let him give up and be taken by the fog. Anta moves towards Casimir and rests his muzzle against the boy’s neck.
“Anta is helping you,” I say. “Let the warmth of his breath awaken your muscles again.”
With Anta helping the prince I can concentrate on getting the fog away from us. My arm moves—albeit slowly—meaning I can make thrusting motions with my dagger. I continue doing that, not really knowing if it can cause any damage to the strange, smoke-like vapour. The fact that it felt solid gives me hope. There must be something I can attack. Something that will make it retreat.
My arms are an ice I’m afraid to snap, but I try to ignore it and slash at the fog. Anta moves away from the prince and shoots forward with his antlers low, butting against the fog, driving it back. Gradually my shoulders loosen, and I can lean forward, jabbing out my arm, slashing at the dark vapour. I find purchase against the tendrils, and when I pull my knife back, I see a splash of shimmering blue along the blade. It has a life force. The fog has blood, and that means we can hurt it. The crackles and squeals turn my stomach, but I slash forward, ignoring them.
“I’m fighting it, Casimir, I’m really fighting it,” I say. The prince forces his eyes open. Those pale grey eyes are a welcome sight. “We’re going to live!”
I keep working my dagger at the vapours until
The most sound I can make is a muted humming in my throat. My fingers are stiff around the hilt of my dagger, and despite moving my eyes as much as I can, I can’t prise them open. It’s pointless. I’ve failed already by letting my father’s memory down. Norton was right; we never should have come to the Waerg Woods. I think of the prince frozen next to me and think of what I’ve robbed from the realm. I’m nothing but a selfish girl for letting him come with me. I lean into the fog, ready to let it take me.
Just as I find my body shutting down from the cold, a warm tongue licks the back of my neck. Anta. He hasn’t given up on me yet. The sensation ignites a fire inside me. That fire spreads through my muscles, awakening them, and suddenly I have the ability to fight again.
It begins with my eyes. I flutter my eyelids, concentrating on my need to see the forest again. When they are open, I realise that the fog has almost completely surrounded us. Prince Casimir is covered with a shimmering blue frost from head to toe.
“Mm... mmm... mmoo... C... as-im-ir,” I say, forcing my lips apart. The sound begins in my throat but I push it out, finally finding my voice. “Casimir! F-f-fight it!” Beneath his lids I make out a slight movement. He’s conscious—that’s a start.
After my eyes and mouth are free, I concentrate on moving my fingers. But I need Casimir to stay with me, so I find myself chattering to him, saying anything and everything I can think of.
“The fog is trying to freeze you. It’s trying to stop your muscles from working. Keep moving. Keep trying to move. Think about how much you want to move. Work on your eyes first, Casimir. You can do it. Don’t give up. Don’t let the cold take you.”
My fingers flex against my dagger. It’s small, but it’s a start, and I strain to move my forearm. If I can move that arm I can stab the fog. Something about the incisions from my dagger makes the fog retract. Perhaps it is a living organism, even though it looks like nothing of the sort. Either way, our only hope is to try and fight back.
“Casimir, I can move my arm again. I think I can attack the fog. Keep trying to open your eyes. I... I can push my arm forwards. Maybe I can stop it.”
My eyes stay focussed on the prince. I can’t let him give up and be taken by the fog. Anta moves towards Casimir and rests his muzzle against the boy’s neck.
“Anta is helping you,” I say. “Let the warmth of his breath awaken your muscles again.”
With Anta helping the prince I can concentrate on getting the fog away from us. My arm moves—albeit slowly—meaning I can make thrusting motions with my dagger. I continue doing that, not really knowing if it can cause any damage to the strange, smoke-like vapour. The fact that it felt solid gives me hope. There must be something I can attack. Something that will make it retreat.
My arms are an ice I’m afraid to snap, but I try to ignore it and slash at the fog. Anta moves away from the prince and shoots forward with his antlers low, butting against the fog, driving it back. Gradually my shoulders loosen, and I can lean forward, jabbing out my arm, slashing at the dark vapour. I find purchase against the tendrils, and when I pull my knife back, I see a splash of shimmering blue along the blade. It has a life force. The fog has blood, and that means we can hurt it. The crackles and squeals turn my stomach, but I slash forward, ignoring them.
“I’m fighting it, Casimir, I’m really fighting it,” I say. The prince forces his eyes open. Those pale grey eyes are a welcome sight. “We’re going to live!”
I keep working my dagger at the vapours until
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