A Wolf of Ice and Iron [OLD]

Chapter 8

A/N: this chapter is dedicated to two wonderful people, Nightpetal_Fandom  and Ambersong_Tales ! Two very special people who have been reading my book and giving me feedback. Thank you ^^

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Adras

My chest hurts, and it is a pain I have not experienced before. It is not too much of a burden that I collapse against every tree, but it is enough to make me noticeably short of breath and make Winter worried for my welfare.

His ears twitch and his eyes roll back anxiously, his breath huffing in a cloud of mist. Are you sure you're ok, Adras? He asks me once again. He has asked this a few times, and his worry has not ceased a single bit. Although it is annoying as it is pestering, it is touching as it is caring.

"I'm alright," I assure him, but my breath comes shorter with every word and now my eyes sting. Winter's amber eyes are wide with worry and a strange sort of gentleness I hadn't thought would ever be present in those harsh wild eyes.

We continue walking for a few more moments. His coat bristles in anticipation as we come across more and more snow, more and more tracks of long departed animals. He is in his element here, and I feel more like a burden than a bonded. But part of that fades with time as we travel, as my surroundings lighten and Winter is revealed in snowy glory.

He looks beautiful in his beast form, regal and true. I watch him during my spare moments, examining the way his seamless movements transition into lopes and gallops and walks. The way his fur lies beautifully across his back, the way his muzzle is narrow and dark and twitching when he scents. The way his ears slope upward and curve inward ever so slightly, the way they are tipped with black like the rest of the fur on his body.

He is a handsome beast in every shape and form. I cannot hope to ever compare myself to him, but someday, perhaps, we will be equals.

Winter tilts his head up, gazing at the sky. Those burning amber eyes are a dancing inferno, burning all that stands before it. He could burn down the whole world if he simply tried, but he has not. In my mind I wonder why.

"You used magic earlier," I say quickly, surprising even myself. Clearly, I surprise Winter as well.

He pauses, eyes wide at my words. He does not speak for a few moments, and I fear I have said the wrong thing to harm his faerie pride. Faeries are unpredictable and dangerous when it comes to magic, but I know I saw him use it when he opened the gate.

Winter gives a huff, his breath clouding in the early morning chill. I did.

He says nothing else, so I take it upon me to fill the silence this time. "But... why didn't you use your magic to heal yourself earlier?" I tilt my head in question. If he had magic, he should have been able to use it to heal himself of his wounds.

It is not that simple, Winter growls, his lips curling. I have clearly struck a nerve. I have been inside of Tahthian for so long that my magic has dwindled at lack of use. Healing is difficult magic for me now. But it will return quickly.

I nod at that. I think... I think it makes sense. Faerie magic is not my specialty, I know little to nothing about it, and I have much to learn as one of their bonded. But I intend to learn all I can and as quickly as possible. For Winter and for me. I can't afford to be clueless when I'm bonded to a faerie.

I stumble again, and Winter pauses, eyeing me icily. It makes me freeze and wait for what he might do, anticipating the worst. Despite the way I am endeared to him in as little as two days, he still scares me and puts me on edge. This is a force I know next to nothing about, and I cannot be too careful.

He nudges me with his nose, and I stagger toward a copse of trees. Winter nudges me again, harsher this time, and I fall back on my backside into a large pile of snow. It is cold this far north, and while we haven't walked far, dawn is breaking over the horizon, and it is a reminder of how long we have been walking.

It is then that I notice, while I am deep within my mind's concoctions, that Winter has made his leave. I cannot see him nor hear him nearby, which is a strangely terrifying thought for me. Whether the terrifying thought is the idea that I am alone, or that Winter is gone, is unknown to me yet.

I shift in the snow, slipping my pack from around my shoulders. "Winter?"

The faerie does not disappoint in my calling. He walks toward me from the shadows of a pine tree, giving me a considerably large fright as he moves from the darkness beneath. Whether he meant to scare me or not I cannot tell, but his amber eyes do glint with amusement as he passes.

The stinging in my eyes builds, and I rub them. They hurt, and I am not sure why. My chest is tight and my breathing is still a difficulty. I am unsure what it means.

Winter steps toward me with his nose twitching, scenting for something. When he comes up empty he stares at me, his eyes glittering with emotion I dare not give names to. They swim like small oceans, the kinds I have seen in my dreams and heard of far to the south.

Then he surprises me.

Winter pauses for a single moment, where I take another shuddering breath. And then he leans forward and touches his muzzle to my hand, the hand that sits in my lap, shaking a little from the cold and something else. He walks forward, nose brushing its way up my hand, my arm, and then snuffling into my neck.

He curls around me, his thick fur warming my spine and the rest of me as his body heat spreads. He rests his head on my knee, which is laid out in front of me. And then he stares at me, his amber eyes kind, understanding, welcome, warm. It is a warmth that I feel in every cell of my body, and it makes me feel so loved that I melt right there.

The snow is cold. My chest is cold. My mind is cold. But Winter is warm, and slowly, the rest of me thaws.