The Crystal Dragons: Not All That Glitters

Prologue

The first stirrings of spring were never the infectious creep of buds on the trees, nor frogs begging the moon for rain. It was not a warm breeze, or infatuated birdsong, or even the first crocus, dwarfed in stature by skeletal trees. 
If you listened very closely you could hear it. 
A doe nosed through the underbrush. She was the only one. Her brothers and sisters were back in the woods, or perhaps they'd been separated. It didn't matter, there were no wolves or hunters in this place. The leaves on the ground had been there for so long they had softened, and muffled each cautious footstep instead of crunching. 
She nosed between the forgotten names and towering stone monuments to memory, searching for tender green shoots. They were bright against the blackened leaf mulch.
Normally, this early in the year, there wouldn't be anything to eat. But sometimes the bones warmed the soil. 
A twig snapped. 
The doe's head shot up, ears twitching, eyes searching the dark. 
It was a strange night to be in the woods. It was always difficult to see the world clearly without the sun behind you, and the full moon cast long shadows.
New beginnings.
That's what spring was. 
Distant thunder. 

♚ 

Ed shifted on his numb feet.
Patrol was awful this time of year. The ground was hard underfoot, and the air gnawed between the cracks in armor and the seams of clothes. It was almost over though, only a few hours till dawn, only a few weeks till it began to warm. In the meantime, he needed new socks. 
"Its cold for this time of year."
Ed startled, but relaxed when he recognized his replacement.
"I don't need a reminder."
"Well, here I am. Came to your rescue."
"Some rescue. I fear I've already lost my fingers. You were supposed to be here ten m-"
A low wind brushed the treetops, hushing them.
They both shivered. 
The woods yawned out in front of them, an ominous haze. If you looked too hard and for too long, it began to ripple and creep closer, searching, hungry. 
A quiet settled, while they each weighed the risk of disrupting the night, or looking like a coward. They had both been children who believed in ghosts.
It was very cold.
Ed swallowed. 
"I dare you to lick your sword."
Lee looked at him, then scoffed. 
The ground had frozen, so it was likely their blades had frozen too. There was a fifty-fifty chance that putting your tongue against the blade would make it stick. It happened sometimes with armor, if you were sweating, and it was freezing, and the edge of a plate touched your neck. Dragon scale conducted heat and cold alike. 
"I'm not doing that." 
Ed laughed, "Listen, if you're scared-"
"I'm not scared-"
A crash in the underbrush sent both their hands to the weapons on their hips. Their ears twitched, their eyes searched the dark. 
They were perfectly still.
It had come from the graveyard.
Not even the night birds sang. A rumble sounded, somewhere far on the horizon. A storm, maybe, but there had been heat lightning all week. Thunder was never a guarantee of rain. 
A deer burst out of the woods.
It deer barreled past them, bounding as if chased, and they instinctively stepped back to keep from being trampled. 
A nervous laugh escaped Ed. 
"King's sake..." Lee muttered, hand over his pounding heart, "Where did that come from?"
"The Wintergrave," Ed reached into his pocket and produced a small lantern on a long chain. It  flashed blue. 
He hissed through his teeth.
"Ah. Of course. It tripped the ward."
Lee gave a low whistle. 
"Guess you should go tell the dog." 
Ed looked at him. 
"Seriously?"
"Good luck finding him." 
"You're the worst. I hope it rains on you." 
Ed tossed the lantern to his friend, then stalked off.

Distant thunder.