-Reina POV-
The moment she dismounted, the earth felt different.
Reina's boots sank half an inch into snow that had been pressed countless times under marches and hooves. Not untouched powder like the trail they had crossed—this snow had memory. She could feel it, like bruised muscle beneath cold skin.
Her breath escaped in small clouds, trailing faintly behind her as she stepped aside to allow room for Kel and Landon. The barbarians were silent around them.
Not hostile.
Not welcoming.
Silent.
As if one extra sound might cause the landscape to shift.
She didn't know if the silence made her nervous or reassured her that they were still alive.
Kel walked ahead with his usual composure—neither arrogance nor submission. Landon walked just behind him, sword strapped simply, posture grounded.
Reina kept pace beside them.
This is real, she thought. We crossed the line into their territory. Their cold now… not ours.
The barbarian leader guided them toward an oddly squat building of wood and hide. Shadows swallowed the doorway occasionally when the evening wind dragged the flap. Frost crackled at the edge of the structure like veins under ancient skin.
That was where the Chief waited.
She knew before entering that Kel would be the one asked to go forward.
She also knew she would not like it.
Inside the Hall
When they entered the room, the weight of heat and smoke hit her first—the room held the kind of warmth that didn't comfort but tested. A living heat fed by fire and breath.
Her eyes fell upon the girl seated near the central fire.
White hair.
Strong build.
Cold eyes.
Not older than them.
But older in everything that mattered.
Reina's fingers twitched unconsciously toward her dagger hilt.
That girl stared at them. All at once. No hierarchy.
The leader introduced them briefly. Then, the Chief—this Sera—spoke.
"Whoever leads among you, stay. The other two leave."
Reina felt her jaw stiffen.
She understood the logic.
But it still felt like being dismissed.
Her gaze flicked toward Kel.
He met her eyes.
A fraction of movement in his hand—a subtle shift of fingers.
It's fine.
She held his gaze one heartbeat longer than necessary.
Then she inhaled once—and turned to leave without a sound.
Landon followed.
She didn't look back.
Outside the Chief's Hall
Snow swirled in intermittent gusts, clinging to her cloak. She walked only two steps from the door before stopping and looking out toward the camp's center.
Landon stood beside her, hands lightly folded behind his back.
He spoke without moving his gaze.
"You're worried."
She didn't deny it.
Her reply was a quiet whisper.
"Yes."
Landon nodded slightly.
"Because someone else holds the fire this time."
She turned toward him—not sharply, but with controlled precision.
"And because leadership makes him visible," she said.
"Visibility invites misjudgment… or strikes."
Landon's lips formed a faint line.
"He knows that."
"He does," she agreed. "But knowledge doesn't prevent the reaction."
A group of barbarian children dashed past them. A small boy slipped briefly, catching himself in the snow with both hands. He didn't cry. He stood up and kept running.
Reina watched him.
Life here doesn't give space for fragility...
She exhaled, watching her breath drift upward, then fade.
Memory of the Ride
When they first mounted the beasts those barbarians called snowhorns, she had acted—
Natural.
As if she did not feel her pulse quicken when the creature's muscles rippled beneath her, when the icy wind bit harder than she remembered from Rosenfeld estate. Kel and Landon mounted one together, leaving her own mount alone.
It felt oddly… isolating.
Not lonely.
Just isolated—the way she often felt watching others move freely.
Yet Kel's eyes met hers before the advance began.
No words.
Just quiet.
You're the only one here with freedom of motion.
A recognition.
That she was not there to be shielded.
She rode behind them, snow biting her eyes, her hands gripping the reins. The world turned white as they headed toward the camp.
There had been a moment, during that ride, where they hit a rise of snow and the beast beneath her lurched. Her body tilted—
Instinctively, she reached for support.
Her hand almost lifted toward Kel.
She caught it midway.
And gripped tighter.
Distance is necessary, she reminded herself.
Not for distrust.
But for balance.
Back to the Present
Snow fell gentler now.
Quietly.
Landon broke the silence again.
"You don't enjoy waiting."
Reina gave him a sidelong glance, thoughts vacant, voice muted.
"I don't enjoy being sent away."
He hummed approvingly.
"That's different."
She didn't reply.
Her gaze shifted back toward the hall.
Time passed.
Wind breathed.
At one point, someone offered them warmed pelts to sit upon. She refused with a polite shake of the head. Landon accepted one.
They remained standing.
Reina's Thoughts
She didn't think of the journey ahead.
Nor the lake Kel spoke of in passing.
Nor of curses.
She thought of voices—
Kel's quiet voice instructing calm before the duel.
The way he held a bow only hours ago, saying, "This angle… breathe slower."
The moment on the caravan when her hand—
She stopped the thought.
Not now.
Perhaps later.
When she was alone.
With something fragile enough to hold it.
The Hall Opens
The hide flap shifted.
Kel stepped out.
Slowly.
Not wounded.
Not triumphant.
Simply… steady.
The firelight from inside still clung to his presence, giving his shadows more weight.
Reina exhaled very quietly.
Only then did she realize she had been holding it.
Kel's gaze immediately sought them.
He didn't speak.
Neither did she.
But she stepped forward, matched pace with him naturally.
Landon followed without comment.
They walked together away from the hall.
Like breath following heartbeat.
A Question in the Night
Only when they put several buildings between them and the hall did she break the silence.
"The Chief," she asked, her tone soft but clear, "she is… young?"
Kel's gaze did not shift from forward.
"Yes."
A pause.
The snow fell slowly.
She continued.
"Strong?"
"Yes."
She glanced at him.
"Dangerous?"
Kel's lips moved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
Something colder.
"Yes."
She absorbed that quietly.
"Then she's worth trusting," she said.
Kel looked at her.
For the first time since stepping out of the hall.
His eyes were thoughtful.
"Why?"
Reina's answer came without hesitation.
"Because people who are weak and dangerous tend to fall quickly."
"Those who are strong and dangerous survive long enough to be predictable."
Kel's breath left him in a soft, almost silent exhale.
Landon gave her a brief look.
"So as long as we understand their nature," she finished, "we can walk alongside them."
Kel stopped.
Just for a second.
And turned his head.
The barest curve settled at his lips.
"…Yes," he said quietly. "That is… close to what we discussed."
She nodded once.
Landon looked slightly impressed.
As They Walked Away
Snow muffled their steps.
She watched Kel walk forward toward the far tents where they would spend the night. His figure, night-clad and frost-silvered, seemed to blend with the terrain.
Landon moved a step behind him.
She moved a step beside Kel.
Just enough distance for both closeness and caution.
If the world tries to erase us, she thought, it will at least have to write three names before it succeeds.
She did not speak that aloud.
She did not have to.
As the wind shifted, carrying with it the distant echoes of barbarian drums preparing for departure, Reina looked at the frozen field stretching toward the mountains.
Harsh.
Unforgiving.
Beautiful.
The kind of place where things die.
Or prove they should live.