Breaking the Ice (Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

SLEET

Anxiety squirmed in the Icee's gut. It was true that he wished to prove himself to his parents. But at what price? Although he wouldn't admit it aloud, Sleet somewhat missed the mischievous Nighting.

Somewhat.

If she hadn't invited him to join her in her escape, where would he be now? Definitely not becoming rivals with a Heatling and laughing at the jests of a Scorpian. When he thought about it, there was no purpose, no significance of him staying in the Flake Mountains. He would never be king, never make his own decisions; never learn of the wild, adventurous side of him he'd grown to love.

But he couldn't help but feel like he was abandoning A.R.T.I.C for his own selfish reasons.

He was a walking mess of contradictions. His guilt and confusion weighed him down as they trekked through a prairie.

And then there was Luna. She made him embrace and accept all differences and find the similarities. She made him question everything and wonder things he never gave much thought about.

"Oi, pretty boy," the Heatling's rumbling voice sliced through Sleet's thoughts. "Less dreaming and more walking."

"You seem to be in a hurry," Scorch smirked. "You want to find Luna that badly?"

Flare snorted, "The sooner we find that wretched Nightling, the sooner we can leave this damned forest."

"You don't have to be here. You can burn the area and leave whenever you please." Scorch pointed out, staring at the ground intently in search of footprints. But Flare ignored him, glaring at Sleet who began drifting back into his thoughts.

"HOW MANY TIMES ARE YA GONNA LAG BEHIND, YA WALRUS?!" He screeched, climbing on top of a boulder. Sleet lifted his head. He hadn't noticed they were on a path in the mountains now, how long had they been walking? Flare glared down at both Icee and Scorpian. He was much like a raging mountain goat.

"He's coming," Scorch said sluggishly, beads of sweat dotted his brow. "Why must you be so demanding?"

"And you claim I'm a nuisance?" Flare chastised, planting his hands on his knees. Was he seriously stretching like this was a mere exercise? Seeing how the rogue prince was always prepared for battle, Sleet was afraid to see how he was raised and what the Heatling monarchs were like. "Plus, I'm hungry."

"Why are you looking at me?" Scorch pointed a large finger at himself, eyeing their fiery travel companion warily.

"You have a stunning tail barb, I'm curious to see it in action. Kill something for us." Flare grinned, almost salivating at the thought. Scorch blanched. Strange.

"I don't want poison in my fat, thank you very much." Sleet stepped in, seeing the Scorpian's discomfort. "Roast something for us."

"As you wish.." Flare snickered, making Sleet regret his choice of words. The Heatling cleared his throat. "Okay, slushie, why are you even here? Don't popsicles melt when they aren't cold?" Sleet scoffed.

If it's a battle of insults he wants, it is a battle of insults he'll get.

"Is that the best you got?" Cackled the Scorpian, joining in. "Did you have to set something on fire to come up with it?"

"Huh? Did you say something? Your lips are as dry as the desert, perhaps your brain as well." Flare goaded. Sleet failed to smother a laugh.

"Did you ask a dragon for such a dim comeback?" Asked Scorch.

"Scorch, back down." Sleet rested a hand on Scorch's shoulder. "But I guess you couldn't find a chill pill, being born in a desert and all."

"Oh look, the snowman came to play. But you're missing your carrot nose." Scorch countered.

"Go howl at the moon, wolf." Flare added, flicking a bronze hand at Sleet.

"Don't mind me extinguishing your comebacks. While we're at it, would you like me to find you a pair of shears?" Sleet smirked, pointing at the Heatling's shaggy hair.

"Says the furless wolf," Flare's lips curled irritatedly. "You must feel cold in the summer."

Flare yelled, perhaps he was angry, or perhaps he had nothing better to do. Scorch groaned, he couldn't track Luna's scent. The other smells of the forest were interfering and muddling his concentration. Sleet could smell the damp moss splattered on the trees, the rich soil beneath his feet. There weren't only scents, but sounds and sights as well. The triad was surrounded by green on all sides. At first Sleet found it revolting, but now he found it somewhat tranquil.

The sun peered through the canopy in rays of light. The sky was always hidden behind clouds back at home, Sleet rarely saw the beautiful beams of sun. He rarely felt the warmth it brought to his skin. It was strangely comforting.

But it also drained him of energy.

Crickets chirped in their respective hidey-holes, not even the Icee's delicate ears to trace where the noise was coming from. Perhaps it was everywhere.

He gaze crossed to Scorch, his brows furrowed as he caressed the stubble dotting his sharp jawline. In fact, the entirety of his chiseled face was serious, it seemed like a natural look on him, not like the jester grins he constantly flashed.

"What is on your mind, Scorpian?" Sleet asked at last. Scorch's intense look started to bother him.

Scorch looked up, almost startled. "I-I was just thinking..."

"That's new," Flare grumbled up ahead, marching in front. He had barely broken a sweat.

"You're a wolf, correct?" The tall Scorpion asked. Sleet nodded, affirming his words. "Aren't wolves specialized in tracking? You can...kinda focus on one scent and blur the others, can't you?"

Sleet open and closed his mouth, why hadn't he thought of that? Then he remembered. It was because he never had a need to track anything, he had no experience whatsoever.

Flare whirled around, scoffing indignantly. "Why hadn't I thought of—I mean— you're to be the dumb one! How'd you get a not as stupid idea like that!" Scorch puffed out his chest complacently.

"Careful Flare, you're coming awfully close to complimenting me."

"I need to remember what she smells like." Sleet cut in. "So I can find a similar scent trail and find her."

Flare wrinkled his nose. "Sniff yourself, Nightling hugger." Sleet kept himself from cringing.

"She sometimes smelled like the dampness of a forest after it rained. Other times she smelled like a bloomed coliva. It usually depended on her mood." Scorch explained.

The Heatling stared at him with incredulity. "You memorized her scent, what kind of freak does that?"

"You memorize our footsteps and sleeping patterns." Scorch deadpanned. Sleet pinched his lips, then lifted his nose to the air. The 'damp forest' bit would not be successful to track, seeing how they were already in one.

Instead, he pictured the coliva bloom. Its charcoal center with soft, delicate petals dipped in silver. He recalled its velvety texture and the light sweet milky aroma it released. He inhaled, searching for the tiniest trace of it. His eyes instinctively closed as a string formed in his mind. All he had to do was follow it.

He opened his eyes, laughing in disbelief. "It worked." He chuckled. "I-I can smell her."

Scorch beamed. "Then what are we waiting for?" Sleet pointed to their left, a fissure in the prickly, unwelcoming thickets. Now filled with excitement, the trio sprinted, racing to find their missing comrade.