Snow Sword Stride Novels & Stories

The doors blew open. Wind and snow, real snow, burst into the villa like a miniature storm. Frost spiraled across the floorboards, racing toward us in glittering tendrils. And then he stepped inside. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hair white as winter sun. Eyes like chipped ice, sharp, assessing, lethal.

Snow—my white wolf with cold blue eyes—lifted her head. The witch froze. Good. Even without speaking, Snow radiated lethal grace. My body felt heavier, stronger, and wild. Every instinct sharpened. My paws touched the floor with silent promise. The witch’s fingers twitched, drawing runes in a desperate attempt to defend herself, but Snow was already moving. A blur of white. A sharp snap of bones. A wet crack. In the span of a breath, Snow lunged at her, jaws stretching wide. Teeth sank into the witch’s neck and tore through flesh and bone with merciless precision.

Shanon appeared exactly five minutes later in a white and blue gradient ski outfit and furry hoodie. Shanon carried goggles and other ski equipment in both hands. “They gave me this before I came out.” “Sarah and Stevan make sure their friends have everything here. Let's go. Our friends left half an hour ago.” “They must be at the top of the hill. Why is there no cable car here?” Shanon started to complain just a few steps after her shoes hit the snow. The combination of uphill roads and very thick snow made the walk feel five times more difficult than just climbing up a steep mountain.

The static in my skull, the thing I've been blaming on bad sleep and dining hall coffee, just stops. "What is that?" I whisper. My weight shifts onto the balls of my feet before I decide to move it. That's not a thought. That's reflex, and it isn't mine. I look down at the snow behind the loading dock. Prints cut through the fresh powder. Bare feet, wide toes, a stride longer than mine could ever manage. I drop into a crouch, breath shaking out in front of me. The edges of every print are melted, almost scorched. Chemical burn, maybe. Or dry ice, except the stride's too wide for that, too heavy for something out for a walk. Whatever left these wasn't strolling.

He had been waiting here for almost twenty minutes, and Snow still had not come out. Just as he took out his mobile phone to call Snow, the door opened. Harvey saw Snow in an off-white dress, hands holding the hem, wearing a pair of high heels that looked almost four inches high, staggering out of the mansion. A thick diamond necklace hung from her slender neck looked a little out of place. Harvey frowned at seeing this. Snow had done her best to maintain her manners, showing her most beautiful side in front of Harvey. But she was not too used to high heels, and she looked odd no matter how hard she tried.

My legs were twisted, crushed under the weight of the snow. Shawn collapsed as he finally saw my corpse. The tool clattered to the ground. He stared blankly at my corpse as he shook his head vehemently.

The silver wolf stared at me in a predatory manner, tilting his snout toward the heart of the forest, giving the advantage for the chase and the hunt! The game became electrifying. I started to run, using the color of my fur as a strategic advantage to blend into the whiteness of the snow. Each step was an intimate fusion with the cold and damp texture, feeling the soft white giving way gently under my strong paws. The unique freshness of the snow embraced me, its icy particles intertwining in the dense fur of my legs, creating sparkling crystals as I advanced.

"How can you say these things and still have a conscience? You sent her to the Highveil Mountains, where she died of hypothermia! Her body is still up there on the Highveil Mountains!" Chester's every move seemed to be in slow motion. "Why did she, who had so much trouble walking, insist on climbing that snowy mountain?" I stared at him with ice in my gaze. "You already know the answer." Chester shook his head wildly. "No, I didn't do it. I just signed her up for trips all around to help her clear her mind. However, I made sure she was safe. I never sent her to the snowy mountains." He was so pale that he looked like he might fall over. He did not seem to be lying.

Then he turned and walked toward the camp. Snow settled on his shoulders, on the whetstone, on the sword hilt. He pulled his collar up. Inside his chest plate, the new hairband pressed against his heart. Warm. --- 【Wildfire and Thistle】 The snow on the northern ice plains stopped for a few days each spring. Heavy snow turning to flurries, flurries turning to ice crystals, ice crystals turning to occasional glints caught in the wind. Rex crouched on a black basalt boulder, his greatsword thrust into the snow beside him, hilt up, like a crooked grave marker. He'd been crouching there a long time. The whetstone on his knee, flipped over and back.

"Don't you dare close your eyes, Aradaa! Stay with me!" Kaelor’s voice ripped through the howling wind, a jagged snarl that barely carried over the shriek of the digital storm. He lunged through snow that reached his waist, his boots sinking into the frozen slush. His arms were iron bands around Aradaa’s limp frame. Ice matted Kaelor’s fur, turning his heavy shoulders into jagged white peaks.