On Thin Ice Novels & Stories

The midnight ice was a flat, dark mirror. By midnight, the cooling units beneath the Madison Square Garden concrete had dialed down to their lowest operational threshold, dropping the ambient temperature of the third subterranean level to a bitter, dry fourteen degrees. The thin layer of frost that settled over the red and blue lines gave the sheet a ghostly, unblemished sheen.

The thin sheet of ice that was his lips bent a single micron. "He fears the cold. Below freezing, his connection to others' pheromones is briefly severed. Cut his communications on the battlefield, and he is left with nothing but himself." "So the old bones fear the cold." Rex dumped the eggs back into the pan. The motion was rough. Egg splattered out. The stove flame kissed it into scorched stars. He grinned. "Then freeze him to death." Silas ignored the grin. His ash pheromones condensed at his fingertips. An almost invisible layer of frost. Barely perceptible in the morning light.

Thirty seconds left. Zane controlled the puck behind his own net. He looked up and saw Jaxon flying across center ice, his stick low, eyes locked on him like a predator. Zane pushed off hard. The whole arena seemed to hold its breath. He tried to shield the puck, but Jaxon was too quick. One clean poke check and the puck was gone. Jaxon took off and raced towards the Thunder Wolves’ goal. Zane chased with everything he had, his legs screaming, but Jaxon was already winding up.

The lunar pull of this season has changed us. The pack has never exerted itself with such ferocity. I can feel the heat radiating off my teammates, a burning contrast to the sub-zero temperature of the ice. My own muscles are screaming, taxed to the absolute limit of lupine endurance, but my consciousness is crystalline. I am centered. Every sense is tuned to the singular frequency of the win.

I turn before either of them can see my face crack. I don't even think about where I'm going. My legs just carry me, fast, away from the courtyard, down the side hall, out through the side exit that leads to the rink. It's empty this time of day, dark except for the security lights humming over silent ice. I climb the bleachers and lie flat across the top row, staring up at the rafters, willing myself not to cry where anyone could theoretically walk in and see. I just need five minutes. Five minutes where I'm not the girl in everyone's phone.

I say. " no problem, now eat! You are gonna need your strength! " he says excitedly. I begin eating and I wolf it all down within seconds. " for what exactly?" I say blankly. " to escape! " he says. " and damn girl talk about hunger!" All of a sudden I feel a sharp pain in my chest and it takes a minute to realise that it's from snow. " April, are we going to leave mate behind?" She asks sadly. " yes snow! He rejected us remember? He also got our parents killed! " I say matter of factly.

“He’s not the one I fear. It’s the Thirteenth. If he can twist the world’s Voices like whispers in the dark... what happens when he finds one who wants to listen?” The question lingered long after sleep returned. --- The mountains of the north rose like jagged knives from the earth. Snow fell in thin, relentless veils, coating their cloaks and boots, stinging their cheeks. The path narrowed into crags and switchbacks, the wind howling like wolves denied a hunt. By the seventh day, Thalen led them to the edge of a vast ice shelf that stretched out like a broken sea, glittering beneath a thin veil of clouds. “This is the Icehold,” he said.

“It’s close. Closer than it should be.” “How do you know?” he asked softly. “Because it’s calling,” she said. “And it knows we’re coming.” Hours passed. The path widened briefly before dipping into a gorge and a valley carved by ancient rivers and long since frozen solid. Jagged spears of ice jutted from the ground like broken glass. The snow here was stained gray, as if the world itself had been burned and refrozen. They descended carefully, boots slipping on the frost-slick stone. Aria’s fingers brushed the wall beside her for balance and and jerked back as she felt the faintest pulse beneath the ice.

She knelt on the deck, her hands pressed against the carbon-fiber hull. She projected a thin layer of Non-Newtonian Ice across the surface of the water. Unlike the brittle ice of the Arctic, this was a viscous, gel-like frost designed to absorb vibration. "Step on the frost," Elara commanded. "Don't jump. Don't run. Just breathe." The Feral Six moved onto the water, a line of shadows traversing the harbor. Kael walked last, his internal heat dialed down to a simmering ember, the steam from his footsteps instantly muffled by Elara’s ice.

It didn’t help; it just hurt. ‘Yeah, maybe don’t do that?’ muttered Bo, rolling his eyes at me. ‘Well, yeah, I’ve realised that now.’ It was almost impossible to move quickly over the thick layer of ice that covered the ground. Ames could ice skate, so she was a little swifter than me, but I kept slipping over. My back, thighs, and bum were all undoubtedly covered in bruises by now. I kept straining my head for any errant mindlinks from the Moon Chasm wolves, but no more came through. I also kept my eyes on the lookout for any sign of them but, like their mindlinks, they’d vanished, too.