My heart beat so fast, I thought it might kill me before the thing ever got the chance. I gripped my iron so tight my hand went numb.
The others stood, seemingly unshaken. Not a quiver in their hands. Their breathing was steady. They simply surveyed the surroundings, listening for the crunch of snow or the rasp of broken branches.
The Sergeant hadn’t even removed his Kindleroot pipe from his mouth, slowly sucking in the bitter warmth before blowing it out the corner of his lips, smoke forming ghostly tendrils in the frozen air.
But I could see it in their eyes.
They were afraid. Just as I was.
Only they had been here before, on many a frozen evening.
They understood something I would quickly learn: that panicking was the quickest way to meet the Mother.
-Excerpt from The Frostwood Crusade by Gildrick Domar
