Quest A Slaughter in the Jungle[Open]

[Talus]

Cortosi Coast- Fel'Ithil Isle

An Elf sat on a boulder.

There was a bow nestled beside him, an arrow loosely knocked in it's string. A set of knives sat on his belt and the loose leather armor he wore adorned his shoulders as though it were part of his skin. His eyes sat on the darkened forest just ahead of him, staring among the trees in a constant vigil. He was silent, his ears flicked as they searched for noise.

One could not have asked for a better watchmen.

Yet even he could not have seen the blade impaling through his chest coming.

There was no warning of it. The sound of the sword unsheathing did not ring through the night, the thunder of footsteps did not ring out, nothing came that he could have heard. A ghost, a wisp of something had risen from the boulder beneath the man and stabbed him through the heart before he ever had a chance to respond.

The moment it's blade protruded from the Elf's chest the ghost became whole, an almost picturesque man in armor coming into being. He placed a hand over the Elves mouth, pulling him close as he wrenched the sword free and let the dead elf crumple onto the floor. A loud breath flowed from the armored man's helmet as he glanced at the corpse.

Talus Morid had never killed an Elf before. It had been easier than he'd thought it would be.

In the silent black Talus made a series of motions with his hand, signalling to his compatriots to come forward.

They were here alone. Students of the Academy sent on their own mission. Fel'Ithil was an island in the Cortosi Coast. A thousand years ago, before the second Elven War, it had been directly controlled by Fal'Addas and the Elves there. During the war Vel Anir had razed the entirety of the isle and the Elven city upon it.

It had stayed that way for a millenia, it's ecosystem slowly recovering until life bloomed. Though the jungle had returned, the Elves of Fal'Addas never did.

Instead their place was taken by a group of renegades, or so it was claimed. A small group of renegade knife ears who had sworn death to Vel Anir and everything it stood for. They had claimed Fel'Ithil for themselves, using it as a staging area to attack Anirian ship and just a short few weeks ago the mainland.

The Great Houses had decided that such a thing would not stand, but also did not want to risk angering Fal'Addas in case they were sympathetic to their kin. Thus Talus and his compatriots had been sent. They were students, unknown faces and fools that no one would recognize...or miss if they were caught.

It was a chance to prove themselves, a chance to show that they were ready.

Succeed and the rewards would be great, fail and they were all dead.

Talus was not sure which he preferred.

 

[Harry]

Hal moved on Talus' signal, sprinting from the treeline to the boulder. He was low as he dashed across the clearing. The Apprentice slowed as he approached the rock, eventually stopping next to the corpse. He looked down and knelt by the slain elf. He began to unfasten the elf's belt, and when he pulled the leather strap from the corpse, he quickly searched the contents of the few pouches on it. With a huff, he poured the contents of the bags onto the dirt, useless items sinking in the long grass and wordlessly held the belt up to Sierra, who had caught up to him. She would make better use of the knives than the rest of them.

He watched as Talus wiped the blood from his blade, then back down to the elf. They had moved cautiously up to this point and would have to be even more careful going onward.

It was hot and humid, but Hal was comfortable as his body stayed cool. He stood and looked beyond the boulder. Past the thick foliage and trees, over rivers and through soft dirt, their target waited.

As the group gathered around the boulder, Hal uncorked a leather skin full of water which was chilled from being on his person for so long and took a drink.

 

[Sierra]

Sierra took the belt, fingertips brushing against Hal’s. If it had been anyone else, she would’ve been concerned of how cold those fingers were. But it was Hal. And here she was, a healthy glow of sweat on her face. And she had thick leather hide around her chest,torso, and thighs instead of armor. It allowed her to be somewhat protected while not making as much noise as armor.

Hot as hell though.

Fingers plucked one of the knives out.

“Looks like some Rune magic on here,” she said quietly. They were elegant blades. Perfect for throwing. Leave it to the elves for their craftsmanship.

“An arrow might’ve worked as well as you ghosting,” the girl commented to Talus. Eyes weren’t on him though. Head was on a swivel, watching their backs.

 

[Talus]

Talus slipped down from the top of the boulder and landed on his feet in front of the others. He knew that Luther was nearby somewhere, though had likely taken his own path.

He always did. "Didn't want to chance it."

None of them had ever fought Elves before, and although Sierra was a sure shot, an arrow didn't always do the task it needed to. A few centimeters off and the target could live, plus the clatter of the fall might have set off other sentries.

"The Camp is just down the ridge." Talus said as he pointed left.

They had been given some information, though most of this they had to gather for themselves over the last couple of days.

He frowned slightly.

"There's not a lot of cover." The Elves had chosen their hiding place well. "We'll need to be careful."

 

[Ryan of Tel Idris]

Clank. Clank.

Luther brought up the rear. He wore full plate armor, richly gilded in gold and embossed with a winged gryffin upon the chest - his family’s coat of arms. The spectacle was severely marred by the mud splattering him nearly head to toe from where he had tripped a ways back. He wore his visor up and it was obvious that the heat was getting to him.

“Sounds like you need a distraction.”

 

[Harry]

"Pfft," Henry's stifled laughter at the sight of Luther shattered the serious atmosphere around the group. Before corking the leather skin, he offered it to Luther, who seemed to be in need of some refreshment, "Water, M'Lord?"

He wore an awkward smile on his face as he offered the water, an expression that the group had grown so used to seeing.

"It wouldn't be wise to act as a distraction when we know not their capabilities," Hal offered his thoughts, which was quite uncharacteristic of him. He normally left planning to Talus, or Luther- they had a propensity for formulating strategies.

 

[Sierra]

If Sierra’s gaze could freeze, Luther would be a block of ice by now. Alas, that was Hal’s talent. It was a wonder his clanking and shiny armor hadn’t blown their cover already.

Bow shifted on her shoulder.

“I dunno. I think we should let his Highness have a go.” Luther never really forgot to let the group know where he came from, being the only royal blood among the four. And perhaps the remaining survivors of the class.

 

[Talus]

Talus glanced between the three of them, frowning at Luther's appearance. Of the four of them he had always been the most graceful, something to do with his exceeding skill at the sword. Luther was...well. "You could end up dead."

He stated blankly.

"But we might be able to hit them hard enough while they're looking the other way." They just had to be quick in doing it.

The information they had said there was about a dozen or so Renegades in the encampment below, one less now. There were more on the island, but too far away to help their brothers.

"Sierra can provide overwatch." He said quietly. "Hal and I can flank them from behind."

Talus looked at Luther. "You just have to make sure not to get yourself killed."

 

[Ryan of Tel Idris]

“Oh you’d love that wouldn’t you?”

Luther snorted, accepting the waterskin from Hal and taking a long drain before tossing it back. Cool and refreshing.

He slammed his visor down.

“If only I’d thirty horse and an open plain. Ah well.”

Then Luther clanked off.

He found a path down the ridge line where the gradient was not too steep and with shuffling steps made his way down. Ahead, he could see a handful of tents through the trees. They’d made their camp in a natural clearing.

Luther creaked on, stopping only when three elves suddenly appeared before him as if my magic. They were tall and slender, with haughty gazes and ancient eyes. One wore blue woad on one half of his face.

“Are you lost, little knight?” Asked Painted Face.

“Cliché,” Luther said, muffled through his helm.

Then he held up both hands, fingers splayed. Lightning crackled from his fingertips in a cascade of coruscating blue and white that enveloped the three elves. One of them went flying backward, smoke rising from his body. The second manager to dive for cover and came up bow in hand. The third, Painted Face, held up a hand and the lightning seemed to flow around him, like fingertips seeking to grasp at his flesh, but never quite touching.

“Dreadlords,” hissed Painted Face “Always so brash.”

The lightning died off.

Then arrows came from all around, pelting and pinging off the plate. Shafts burst, splinters flying up before Luther’s Face, staggering him. One found the mark, skidding off plate to stick in his shoulder, then another took him at the elbow.

“Shit,” cursed Luther as the pain came, white hot.

Painted Face drew a long, thin and slightly curved blade, then moved toward Luther with all the grace of a being who had practiced swordplay for three hundred years.

 

[Sierra]

As Luther was clanking down a hill, Sierra was climbing a tree for a vantage point. Edging out on a branch, she knelt, hooking the back of one foot against the side of the bough. Arrow was on the bow as she lined up the shot.

Eyes couldn't help the flicker to Luther's shiny backside as he stumbled down the hill.

Her gaze quickly refocused on the origin of the arrows going toward Luther.

"Shit," she exhaled, letting her own fly. It hit an elf hidden in one of the opposite trees. In a blur she had another arrow notched and let it go. Another body tumbled to the ground. Another arrow notched. Bringing her aim in closer, she shot one at painted face advancing on Luther.

The elf dodged with surprising speed and took a moment to glare at her vantage spot.

A very sudden and invisible force knocked her straight from the branch.

"Damnit," limbs flailed in the air as the ground rushed up to meet her.

 

[Harry]

Luther shuffled away down the ridge, and Sierra dashed away and up a tree. Talus and Hal dashed away themselves. They made their way down the ridge and began to circle around the encampment, using the trees to hide their movement. Before they reached their position, Hal could hear the clamor of battle.

He suddenly stopped and looked through the trees and towards the camp. Elves within were rushing to Luther's direction, all armed. He drew the hammer tucked into the belt on his waist. It was a crude weapon, but fit Hal's scrappy style of fighting. A thin layer of frost built up on Henry's left hand as he began to gather magic into the center of his palm. His skin slightly lost its color, and visible wispy vapor rose from his skin.

"If we can get them to group," He slightly grimaced from the discomfort of gathering his magic and looked to Talus, "They will experience a frozen hell."

It had been a long while since Henry had the opportunity to use his magic on such a large scale. Despite the gravity of the situation, he was quite excited to see how his training had progressed.

 

[Talus]

Talus let out a small curse as Luther walked away from them without even finishing planning.

He marked the memory in his mind, deciding that if they survived all of this he would beat the boy to an inch of his life as a lesson.

Still, he quickly dashed behind Hal. The two of them made their way around the encampment, coming up behind it just as Luther and Sierra began their assault. He spotted a few of the Elves on the ground, though most were still in the trees.

His gaze flickered towards the branches. "Archers first."

He motioned to Hal, pointing to two branches that each contained an Archer draped in thick robes.

"If you can, freeze them and protect Sierra. I'll back up Luther and go after him." Talus pointed towards the Elf with the painted face, grimacing as he drew his blade. "They'll converge us and then you do your thing."

Talus was no good against archers, reaching them would expend too much energy.

Plus, if he and Luther pulled in enough Elves they could do this faster.

Swallowing, Talus patted Hal on the shoulder. Then he burst into a sprint. Without warning he pounced from the forest behind the elves that had started to converge on Luther, his sword slashing forward and catching one by the throat before the blade turned and swept towards the Painted Elf.

The man's long knives flickered up, catching Talus' sword just barely and erupting in a wall of spark.

 

[Arianrhod]

A strangled cry sounded.

Arianrhod's head shot up, the motion mimicked by everyone else in view. Her ears strained while she blocked out all background sound, focusing on the faint sounds. There. The clash of blades and something else.

Without even noticing, she was half a dozen steps forward, her tall frame rising and gliding with practiced ease. Her footsteps didn't make a sound as she broke into a long loping run, hand gripping her bow tight. She could sense her brothers and sisters fanning out left and right of her into a skirmish line.

She drew and nocked an arrow with a grace that only decades of practice could give. An elf to the far right began a whoop, sounding it out in a long and eerie howl. It was copied by another on the far side, the unnerving sound echoing through the trees.

She saw a shape move in a gap in the brush. Arianrhod didn't even bother to stop, she loosed an arrow, sidestepping and nocking a second in a lightning quick motion. She took up the howl, hearing it echoed by someone further down the line.

 

[Laqueta Hala Kritanta]

Laqueta's head whipped up at the shrill cries and the banging of swords. She sighed in annoyance as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She thought that perhaps she could lay low in Fel'Ithil, her recent assassinations bumping her up from the second most wanted murderer in Alliria to the first. Adjusting her lilac silk mask to fit snugly against her mouth, she jumped up to investigate the ruckus.

Weaving between the trees unheard, she paused she spotted the faint outline of figures clashing. Grumbling to herself once she realized it was nothing more than a rather tame fight between the residents and some foolish-looking kids, she leaned against a tree. Her figure was out of view of onlookers and yet she still had a clear view of the battlegrounds. A few elves wisped past her without sparing her a glance. Laqueta observed as the two opposing sides clashed, an eerie howl echoing throughout the humid forest.

 

[Sierra]

She felt a snap in her wrist as she hit the ground. The magic that'd knocked her from the tree wasn't just like falling from one. It was like being slammed to the earth. A groan left her mouth as arrows flew around her, embedding themselves into the earth.

Move Sierra.

The girl threw herself into a roll on the ground, trying to get back under cover. Bow lay broken on the ground. A very big part of her would rather die here than face the Dreadlords with a failure. That beating would be more painful than a broken wrist.

 

[Harry]

Talus' firm hand patting Hal's shoulder stirred the older Apprentice into action. The two broke into a sprint behind the line of elves, moving far faster than boys of their age should. Henry focused on the tall trees before him, formulating a plan to at least remove the archers from their perches in the most efficient manner. The first would be a simple task but reaching the second archer would prove to be far more diffi-

On pure reflex, Henry ducked under a flash of iron that aimed for his neck, dropping down and sliding on his knees somewhat as to not break his stride and to avoid the sudden slash. As he recovered, stumbling to rise back to his feet and continue his dash, he saw Sierra fall from a tree. Her landing was masked by the undergrowth. For a moment, his body tensed and temporary grief seized his chest.

Do not stop, he thought, head snapping forward, calmly suppressing a sudden wave of anger, Archers.

He could hear the elves' shouting at- each other? At them? Hal could not understand their language, but he knew that the flank had been somewhat successful as their line was disrupted from it.

In no time, he arrived at the first archer, who had an arrow drawn back and aimed at Luther. With the last step of his dash, he made a small leap and upon landing crouched down. He laid his left palm on the soft dirt and could feel the moisture in the soil and beads of water that clung to the grass. It must have rained recently.

Good.

A wave of chilled air exploded outward from where Hal placed his palm, then a ring of frost swirled around the Apprentice's crouched figure. Taking the shape of the ring, a pillar of ice erupted from the earth, angled upward at the archer. Hal struggled to not slide off the pillar, and when it stopped mid-way to the branch where the archer was positioned, he extended his body and lept from the ice. He flew at the elf, and his body collided against the archer's back, sending them both plummeting toward the soft ground. While falling, Hal tightly gripped the elf's shoulders and fixed his own positioning somewhat. As they landed, he felt the tapered point of his sabaton dig into the elf's back and bone crunch under his own weight. He heard a feminine yelp as he landed.

His body rocked forward, but he quickly straightened himself. He held his warhammer under the head, and he let the shaft slide down his hand until he could feel the textured grip. Swinging his arm across his body, he brought the blunt end of the hammer across the back of the elf's skull. The sound was dull, and Henry felt the sensation of crushing bone. His arm curled around his left shoulder, and he unleashed another devastating blow on the elf. The back of the archer's head became mutilated as the warhammer's hook dug into skin, and ripped a chunk of flesh and bone out from the woman's head. The flesh gruesomely splattered across the vibrant grass, bits of brain and bone strewn about the flash of blood that painted the green canvas below them. Hair tangled around Henry's warhammer.

Not stopping to think, his head quickly snapped to where the other archer was, and he quickly made his way there. An arrow, appearing only as a blur, flew towards Henry from within the tree. He rotated his body and curled his right forearm up, protecting his chest. He felt and saw the arrow collide with the layered plates that protected his shoulder. The shaft splintered and the arrow fell to the dirt.

He came to a sudden stop some distance away from the tree, and with his final step stomped down with his right foot. Another blast of cold air from where his foot planted and a ring of ice and snow swirled around his foot. Jagged ice, no taller than his ankle, bloomed around his foot. Large shards of ice, similar in size to the swords that the Apprentices carried, shot out from the earth in the general direction of the archer.

Four shards disappeared into the leaves, and he heard a branch crack. The leaves and branches on the tree shook, as something with considerable mass fell. He stepped forward with his right foot, stopping down on the earth. Hal shivered now; Frost built upon his sabatons, greaves, and left gauntlet. A trail of ice shot out from where the student stomped his right foot down. As the archer fell from the tree, branch following moments later, the ice stopped at the archer's landing point, and massive spikes shot up from the ground. The elf landed on the spikes and was impaled before ever hitting the earth.

Hal ignored the occasional shiver and whipped his head around to scan the rest of the battlefield.

 

[Talus]

The Elf was fast.

Faster than any of the Proctors back at the Academy, faster than anyone Talus had ever fought before. The moment their blades met The Apprentice already knew that he would lose in a fair fight. The way the painted man moved made Talus look like a joke.

Each time their weapons caught each other there was a spark, each time the Elf got the better of the exchange. Where the Apprentice should have gave an inch he instead gave a mile. Twice, the Elf managed to cut him, twice he tried to push that advantage into a killing blow.

Talus knew he couldn't win.

Not fairly anyway.

His sword flickered left, then right, then left. The Elf each time parrying with ease, a smile showing on his face as he toyed with the apprentice. Then finally the man took his shot. A leg jutted forward, kicking at Talus to bring him down.

Long Knives flickered, turning in the mans grip as he reached to impale the grounded apprentice through the gap in his armor between his breastplate and helmet.

Then something shifted.

There was a flicker, an apparation that pulled itself free of Talus. It moved in the blink of an eye, standing, turning, and spinning around the Elf as it stabbed an ethereal blade into the Elf's back.

The figure moved so quickly that even the Elf had no time to react, his eyes following it with only the barest hint. Then suddenly the figure and Talus merged into one. His body was almost pulled into the ghost, replacing it as he stood there.

A guttural spewing noise left the Elf's throat as Talus wrenched his sword free.

Quickly the apprentice glanced around himself, spotting the half dozen corpses that now surrounded them in the jungle. He quickly looked to Luther, then had his head snap to the left as a loud call began to echo through the jungle.

An arrow embedded itself in the wood tree beside him, the haft missing him only because he'd turned to Luther. His eyes bulged and lips thinned. "Come on."

He told his compatriot as he moved towards the oncoming force.

 

[Arianrhod]

Something twinged in Arianrhod as the air crackled.

She didn't hesitate and followed her impulses, diving forward and hitting the ground. A second later the tree behind her exploded, slivers of wood flying everywhere. She heard a squeal as some unfortunate was impaled.

Arianrhod nocked another arrow, rising from the grace with unnatural grace. She focused on the first armoured figure she could see, loosing an arrow in an instant. She loaded with controlled speed, loosing four more in quick succession.

She didn't wait to see the results of her shots, instead accelerating to a sprint, keeping the distance the same between them. She slid in behind the trunk of an ancient tree and willed her heartbeats to slow. Her legs tensed and she vaulted up, grabbing onto a low hanging branch. She scrambled skyward, barely a blur in the undergrowth.

 

[Ryan of Tel Idris]

“Gratitude,” murmured Luther, grudging respect in his voice as he stepped over the corpse of Painted Face.

He followed Talus, eventually coming alongside, then ahead of the taller apprentice.

Suddenly, an arrow hissed from the trees and struck Luther in the chest. The shaft shivered to pieces and the arrowhead ricocheted off the breastplate and into the undergrowth. Four more arrows followed in quick succession, all glancing off Luther’s plate, though he took a nasty shot to the helmet that left his ears ringing.

Reflexively, Luther tried to lift his off hand with fingers splayed, then he realized he still had two arrows jutting from it.

“Ow.”

Angry with pain, Luther raised his sword instead and pointed it at where the arrows had come from.

Lightning crackled along the length of the blade, then exploded from the tip in a web of shocking tendrils that probed the trees and undergrowth, bursting bark and overheating sap with a humming sizzle.

 

[Sierra]

Sierra made it to the brush. Sounds of running feet were getting closer. Calls from approaching elves. Back-up.

Risking a glance from her cover, she saw sparks shoot into the air. Icicles and a mist growing where unnatural cold met the warm, humid air of the jungle. A mixture of emotions crossed her face, realizing it was Hal and Luther.

A good sign that they were at least still alive. And she had to get to them. Pushing off the ground with her one good hand, she sprinted, opening herself up to the emotions of the elves around her.

Fear. Rage.

As an empath, she began feeding on those emotions and turning them back on the enemy. Their fear would grow two fold. Then ten fold. Elves blocking her from her fellow Dreadlords would suddenly turn white-faced and drop their weapons, running in the opposite direction.

Eyes finally settled on her compatriots. Friends? A snarl left her mouth as she joined the fray, her sword unsheathed and swinging.

Shit, she missed her bow. And non-broken bones.

 

[Harry]

Henry had taken to the archers, which resulted in him being separated from his allies. A small group of elves, armed with swords, came down on him. Still, despite him taking out the two more immediate threats in the form of elven archers, arrows persistently came down on the four.

Hal bore his way through the small group of swordsmen. He took blows where he could, and used his sheer strength to push his way and beat down the elves in front of him. He began to attack from behind the large group that approached his friends, attempting to draw some away from them. His gambeson was torn. An arrow stuck out from under the plate that covered his left shoulder. He faced down many elves. Every time he focused his attention on one, another would sneak a hit in. His body ached from the sword slashes that beat down on his male.

"Give me the signal!" He screamed over the battle, hoping Talus or somebody would hear.

 

[Talus]

Three words echoed through the night sky in answer to Hal. A small burst of magic that welled up in Talus, and then a bright spark that lashed up from his upturned hand.

It wasn't like the spark Luther had sent flying across the the jungle. There was no destruction in it's path or blaze left behind it. No, the spark was a simple powerful beam of light that glanced up in the air and shone as brightly as the sun in the sky.

"DO IT!" He shouted at Hal.

The hope for Talus was that the spark would catch the attention of those Elves that had crowded around them.

All Hal needed was a second, a momentary opening. The smallest lag and it would be enough for the other Apprentice to lash out with his ice and entomb those who would see them dead.

At least that's what Talus hoped.

 

[Arianrhod]

Arianrhod gave a feline yowl as the very wood beneath became painful to touch. The tree itself seemed to creak and groan before bursting into flames, the bark exploding outwards.

A wave of healthy fear washed through her despite her best efforts. She ran along the branch, racing the flames. Vaulting, she let herself drop into space, catching onto a lower branch and swinging forward. She wasn't going to risk another shot with this much magic flying around. Cowards.

She landed in the brush, crouching on all fours. Ears cocked, she spun to face the main source of the violence. Going at them head on had been a disaster. There was a sickly sweet smell of burnt flesh lingering in the air.

 

[Harry]

Henry brought the blunt end of his hammer down on a kneeling elf's forehead before Talus sent the signal up. He grunted as he ripped the hammer out of the elf's skull, thinking that they were quite physically strong despite how they appeared. His breathing was heavy and he quickly set himself on the next elf.

Then came the light. He knew, then, that he had to act. His body was in a decent condition. The frost, a drawback to his magic, had barely set. He could freeze over the whole battlefield without worrying about drastic consequences.

He dropped the hammer and straightened all of his fingers. It often took time to gather the magic within himself to create such a large wave, but he did not have such a luxury. He could feel power surge through his veins, his muscles. A burning hot sensation swirled in his gut, then quickly became painfully cold. The cold spread through his body and a thin vapor rose from all of his skin that was exposed to the air. He ignored the pain and ignored the elf that began to charge at him.

He quickly crouched down and slammed his palms against the soft earth. A wave of frigid air exploded outward in front of him, and was indiscriminate in what it chilled. The elf that charged him was knocked back from the sheer force of cold air that hit him. What followed was terrifyingly large. A wave of ice shot out from the ground and swallowed the closest elf whole. Hal had heard the shriek for a moment, but the elf had quickly been consumed. The wave continued forward, ripping straight through the middle of the line formed by the elves. The luckiest ones were the farthest from the middle, as they had not been completely consumed.

Surely, his companions would expect the ice to stop at the elves. Hal was quite good at controlling his magic now, especially on a smaller scale. What he still struggled with were instances where he had to use his ability over a large area, such as the field that they stood on.

The wave continued forward towards his friends, appearing to have no intention to stop. His raw power surged forth, threatening to consume all life in front of him.

The apprentice himself was aware that he had not controlled the output correctly and knew that he had over-done it. His hands were stuck to the earth, frost keeping his palms rooted firmly to the ground. His immediate surroundings were completely frozen. His surroundings appeared white, with blades of grass and other plant life being frozen completely. The moisture in the earth caused the soil to freeze completely. Hal could see his own breath, and it felt that with every movement, his joints would crack. A layer of frost almost completely covered him. The sweat that had built up on him froze.

The plan to disrupt the elves worked, as there would only be a few left. The drawback and risk to his friends was substantial.

 

[Sierra]

Her steps toward Talus and Hal staggered. Eyes like a stormy-sky widened, auburn browns popping up nearly into her hairline as she saw the wave of ice spread from her friend.

She'd never seen anything like it.

"Hal," she breathed and slid to a stop, quickly running back the other way. The fear increased around her ten-fold and this time, it wasn't even the empath's doing. There was an oak up ahead. With one final grunt of effort, she pushed off the balls of her feet and jumped.

Sharp, icy pain leaped up and curled around the boot of her foot. Good wrist found purchase on a branch as she hung for one moment as her breath turned to a puff of steam in the suddenly chilled air. Grip slipped and she fell to the icy-ground. Head snapped back on the ice coating, boot weighted down of one foot by the block of ice that surrounded it.

The girl saw stars mixed with snowflakes before everything went black.