[Chr24] Xmas Challenge Prompt - Frozen Beliefs

Mina rubbed her hands together, her breath coming in quick, visible puffs as she tried to force some semblance of warmth back into her frozen fingers. The blizzard had ambushed them, turning their path into a merciless gauntlet of icy winds and suffocating snow. Each step through the thickening drifts was an act of defiance against the storm. The world around them had been reduced to a blur of white, the horizon erased by the snow's unrelenting barrage.

Her patience frayed, Mina opened her mouth to complain, only to slam into Seren’s back. The older woman stood rigid, her breath caught mid-exhale. “What—” Mina began, but her words faltered as her gaze followed Seren’s.

A faint glow shimmered ahead, barely visible through the wall of snow. At first, Mina thought it was a trick of the storm—light refracting off the swirling ice—but no. The figure moved, gliding through the forest with an unnatural grace, its edges blurred by the shimmering aura surrounding it. It seemed untouched by the storm, as though the wind and snow bent around it in reverence. The figure was heading deeper into the forest, the glow fading with each silent step, as if being swallowed by the storm itself.

“Did you see that?” Mina whispered, her voice trembling.Seren didn’t reply, her hand tightening around the hilt of her blade. Her usual stoic demeanor cracked, betraying a hint of unease.

Torrent felt a strange calm settle over him despite the surreal sight. His instincts told him this should be terrifying, yet the glow had exuded something… serene. Still, a sense of urgency prickled at the edge of his consciousness. 

The wind shifted sharply, carrying with it a bitter scent that cut through the frigid air—coppery and thick. Blood.

Torrent’s nostrils flared as he turned to Llyr. The younger man’s jaw clenched, his eyes confirming the same realization.

“We’re not alone,” Torrent said, his voice low.

Mina opened her mouth to question him, but before anyone could respond, the air was pierced by a sound that froze them all in place—a wail, thin and high-pitched, like a newborn’s first cry.

Torrent’s body moved before his mind could process it, his massive form charging through the snow with a force that left a trail of churned ice in his wake. Behind him, Llyr shouted for him to wait, but the cry came again, weaker this time, and Torrent couldn’t stop himself.

The snow stung his face like shards of glass as he pushed forward, his boots sinking into the deepening drifts. The metallic scent grew stronger with every step, mingling with the undeniable, heart-wrenching smell of death.

“Torrent!” Mina called, her voice nearly drowned by the storm. Seren and Llyr struggled to keep up, their figures faint shadows behind him.

Torrent crested a small rise and stopped abruptly, his chest heaving as he took in the scene below. At the base of a towering tree, its gnarled branches sagging under the weight of snow, lay a shape barely distinguishable against the white ground. A woman, her clothing matted with blood, was slumped in the protective hollow formed by the tree’s roots. Her arms were wrapped around something—a tiny bundle swaddled in the remnants of her cloak.

Torrent approached cautiously, his breath visible in the freezing air. As he drew closer, the sight of her lifeless eyes staring at nothing made his stomach twist. The others arrived behind him, their breaths sharp with exertion and shock. “Oh gods…” Seren whispered, her voice cracking as her gaze fell on the woman. Llyr crouched, his fingers trembling as he reached out to touch the bundle in her arms. Slowly, he peeled back the bloodied fabric to reveal the child within. Its fur was an unusual shade of icy blue, glistening faintly as though dusted with frost. Tiny horns, shaped like delicate icicles, crowned its head. 

“What… is this? Is it a buck? I’ve never seen one like this?” Mina whispered, taking a step back. “What do we do?” Mina asked, her voice small.

“We take it,” Torrent said firmly, his voice thick with determination. “Whatever it is… it’s alive. And we’re not leaving it here.”

Seren glanced at the lifeless mother, her lips pressed into a tight line. “And the entity?” Torrent didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on the spot where the light had vanished, the question hanging in the frozen air.

—

The snow was relentless, the storm’s fury only growing as the group pushed forward. Llyr carried the strange infant in his arms, shielding its fragile body from the biting wind with his cloak. The child’s small cries had faded to soft, uneven breaths, each one a fragile reminder of its tenuous grip on life.

Mina glanced nervously at Llyr. “Do you think it’ll make it? It’s so… small.”

“It’ll make it,” Torrent said firmly. He led the group through the deep drifts, the wind howled, drowning out the sound of their boots crunching against the snow. The frozen landscape seemed endless, a featureless void of white, until Seren spotted the dark mouth of a cave jutting from a nearby hill. “There!” she shouted, pointing.

The group hurried toward it, grateful for the promise of shelter. Inside the cave was shallow but dry, its walls providing a much-needed reprieve from the storm’s fury. Llyr set the child down on a makeshift bed of cloaks, kneeling beside it as he adjusted its wrappings to keep the cold out.

“We can’t stay here long,” Seren said as she brushed the snow from her hood. “The storm will pass, and we need to find a village. Someone there can take the child.” Mina crouched by the fire Torrent was hurriedly building, her face pale with exhaustion. “But what if they don’t? What if no one wants it?”

Llyr looked up, his expression troubled. “Then what do we do? Raise it ourselves? We’re not exactly equipped to care for a child.”

“It doesn’t matter what we’re equipped for,” Torrent said, voice calm but heavy. Sparks flew from his flint, catching on the dry tinder. “Leaving it behind isn’t an option. It’ll die out there.” The fire crackled to life casting flickering shadows on the cave walls. The group fell silent, the only sounds the wind’s distant wail and the baby’s faint, rhythmic breathing. Mina spoke, her voice soft. “Do you think that… thing we saw, the glowing figure… do you think it intended for us to find the child?”

“Does it matter?” Seren asked. “We did. Now it’s our responsibility.”

As the others debated the next steps, Torrent sat apart, his gaze fixed on the flames. The child’s strange features—the icy blue fur, the delicate horns—reminded him of the stories his grandmother used to tell, tales of the frozen spirits who roamed the tundra. But it wasn’t the legends that weighed on his mind now.

In the flickering light, he saw a face from the past—small and round, framed by dark curls, eyes bright with mischief. Torrent’s hand clenched into a fist. He’d buried that pain years ago. He looked over at Llyr, who was carefully adjusting the child’s wrappings, and then at the others. They were talking about the village, about finding someone to take the child. But deep down, Torrent wasn’t sure he wanted that. He stood, his shadow stretching across the cave as he moved closer to the infant. The child’s tiny breaths were visible in the cold air, each one a small miracle.

The storm raged through the night, howling and battering the cave’s walls like a living thing desperate to get in. Inside, the group huddled close to the fire, the flames casting a small, fragile circle of warmth against the cold. Torrent took the child from Llyr without a word, cradling it in his massive arms. The baby stirred weakly, its tiny fingers brushing against his chest before settling back into an uneasy stillness. He adjusted the wrappings, ensuring no chill could creep in, and held the child close.

—

When morning broke, the storm had spent itself, leaving behind a pale sun and a world blanketed in snow. The group prepared to move on, gathering their belongings and stamping warmth back into their numb limbs. “We’re heading south,” Seren said, looking over the map. “The nearest village is half a day’s walk from here. If we keep a steady pace, we’ll make it before nightfall.”The storm subsided by daybreak, leaving a blanket of snow under a pale sun. The group, eager to resume their journey, gathered their belongings and tried to warm their numb limbs. Seren, consulting the map, announced their plan: "We're heading south. The closest village is half a day's walk. If we maintain a good pace, we should reach it before nightfall."

The journey was grueling, the snow still deep, but the skies were clear, and the group pressed on. Torrent carried the child the entire way, the weight so slight he barely noticed it. Yet, as the hours passed, he felt something growing between them—a connection that warmed him more than the sun ever could. The child stirred now and then, its small hands gripping the edge of his cloak, its breaths forming tiny clouds against his chest. With each step, Torrent found himself more determined.

By the time they reached the village, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows over the cluster of wooden houses nestled in the snow. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the faint sound of voices carried on the crisp air. As they entered the village square, Seren turned to him. “We’ll ask around, find someone who can take the child.”

“No.” The word was quiet but firm, cutting through the conversation like a blade.

Seren blinked. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Torrent adjusted the child in his arms, his expression resolute. “I’ll care for it. The child stays with me.”

“Torrent…” Llyr started, his voice unsure.

“This isn’t up for debate,” Torrent said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve made my choice.”