Page 39 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

CALDER

The Moonling hasn’t tried to kill me. Not yet.

He must be waiting to do it in private , I think, not wanting any witnesses, in case my father decides to care about me and imprison him for the infraction.

We make our way north, toward the Vinderland.

He pierces through the layer of snow like a shovel, his legs and feet parting a path for me, and I stare at his back, my hand on my dagger.

I wonder if it would even pierce his skin.

If I could even get past the bone, before he killed me. If I even have a chance at all.

His father almost killed mine, in an attempt at overthrowing him.

Instead, he ended up in ashes at his feet.

How long until he decides to punish me for my father’s actions?

It doesn’t matter that I never knew his father. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t done anything wrong to all these people who already hate me. The responsibility will always land on me. I will always feel the brunt of others’ resentments, because of who I am.

I would give anything, right now, to be anyone else.

Finally, Calder stops, and I nearly run into his back.

“Here,” he grunts, plopping his pack down. He brought it with him downstairs. It was almost as if he knew we would have to be outside.

“Here?” I say, looking around, watching the rest of the class move past us, going to great lengths to avoid Calder. It doesn’t look like a particularly good spot.

Calder nods. His voice has the air of finality. “Here.”

Right. Is this it? Is this the moment Calder decides to wait until everyone has moved past us, and strikes?

Calder begins unpacking his bag. There’s a blanket and pillow inside. Did he know about the challenge? Did he have an advantage?

Then, I realize I recognize the stuff. It’s my blanket that Agnes made me and the pillow I left in our room. Did he steal it?

Before I can ask any questions, he easily rips the thick material down the center, hands one half to me, and keeps one half for himself.

Then, he lies down and turns away.

I am left standing in the middle of the snow, dumbfounded.

It isn’t even that late. We should keep walking, while it’s relatively warm. We should make progress.

Also, did he just rip my fucking blanket?

I wonder what I should do. Should I take this opportunity to leave? Work by myself?

No. I won’t make it far on my own. Especially since I’m already freezing. I carefully unfurl my half of my blanket and sit on it.

I’m not foolish enough to try to sleep. That’s when he’ll strike. When I’m most vulnerable. Instead, I try my flames again.

Nothing. They’re still frozen, like everything around us.

Fuck .

This is going to be a long month.

I finally lie on my back and stare up at the stars. The cold is awful , I plan to write Enya. I don’t recommend it at all .

My sword is gripped in my hand, ready to fight back at any moment.

But all I hear is Calder’s immense snoring.

The sun rises, and my eyes burn with exhaustion. I tense as I hear him move, rustling the snow around him. I grip my sword harder as his heavy steps near me.

His entire body blocks what little sun reaches us, and he frowns. “If you don’t sleep, you will die,” he says. Then, he shrugs. “Today, we build our shelter.”

I blink. “Here?”

He shakes his head. “North. There are more resources there.”

He packs up both of our things, hauls his pack onto his back, and continues on without another look in my direction.

What is he playing at?

I don’t believe for a second he doesn’t want me dead. But there are few options out here. All I can do is follow for miles, as we hike through the snow.

Calder was right. Without sleep, my strength against the cold is quickly waning. Chill seeps through my clothes and skin. My legs turn to blocks that I drag, forcing myself to continue.

It isn’t long before we reach the first body. And that’s when I realize why Calder insisted on us staying back.

There was a storm. A blizzard.

A fresh coat of snow covers everything, across the mountains we now climb.

And our classmates ... they’re everywhere. We pass the boy and girl who’d taken bets on how long I would last. Their eyes are glassy and lifeless as they stare up at the sky, their bodies frozen over. Snow slides across their blue skin. They might as well be pieces of ice.

They will remain here for centuries, I realize. Their families will never get to bury their bodies. It would be too risky to travel here and claim them.

I think of those mothers, like mine, waiting for their children to return.

It seems unnatural for a Moonling to die of cold, but the untrained still can, if they haven’t found their power center. If the cold does not fuel them, it can eat them from the inside out.

Sunlings are even more at risk in these temperatures. This would have been me, I think, without my partner.

“How—how did you know?” I ask, once we’ve stumbled across the sixth classmate.

Calder shrugs. “I could sense it coming.”

I just blink at his back. I open my mouth. Close it.

“Up,” he says, starting toward the tallest mountain around. “We need to go up.”

This time, I do not question his instruction. I just follow.

My chest is ice—every breath burns the lining of my lungs.

I move slowly, through the path Calder carves, feeling like every step might be my last. Every few seconds, I try to find my fire, try to find the flames within, but they have been completely blotted out, just like the sun.

The wind howls around us. Calder takes the brunt of it, shielding me from direct gusts, but it still stings my nose.

My mind narrows to one purpose. Survival.

Step. After step. After step. Small steps forward are the only way to ascend any mountain. The only way to overcome any challenge.

Finally, Calder stops, and I collapse, my strength spent.

From the ground, I open my eyes and see we’ve reached the peak. It’s smooth. Calmer. And there is a forest just ahead, full of trees white as snow, their branches curved like beckoning fingers.

We’re too high up. The air is thinner, the cold is harsher, but I watch the snow shift down the mountain, tumbling. Storms are worse below, I realize.

“Another blizzard is coming,” Calder says, shuffling beside me, and it takes every inch of my willpower to get to my feet again. “We need to build.”

I am again grateful to be paired with Calder once we start cutting down trees with the curved blade he has in his pack.

“How did you know to bring that?” I finally ask.

He shrugs. “I bring it everywhere.” I remember how he had my blanket and pillow inside. Was he ... was he going to bring it down to me in the morning? Did he know about Cleo’s punishment?

No. Of course not.

He’s going to kill me. He’s just waiting for the right moment.

There are no rules , Cleo said, except survive . If he wants me dead ... I might have to kill him first , I think, dread spiking through me.

Not yet. Right now, he’s my salvation, as we work to cut the curved trees into logs. We work diligently, quietly, my muscles too frozen to hurt, until we have our small structure built.

Calder stacks a few smaller pieces, then points to the pile he’s made. “Make a fire.”

I blink at him. “I can’t.”

He frowns. He looks at my hair, then at me, like I might have forgotten my entire lineage. His voice is flat. “You can’t?”

Shame heats my face the slightest degree. “I mean—the cold. It makes it harder.”

Calder just blinks at me, and I see the meaning in his eyes. He has cleared the path for me this entire journey. He saved us from the storm. He did most of the work in creating this shelter.

The least I can do is make a damned fire.

“I’ll try,” I bite out, and he grunts, nodding.

Then, he leaves our small shelter.

“I thought you said there was a storm,” I yell, sticking my head out, tensing as I’m met with endless flurries.

All I see is his hulking form walking slowly away, into the forest, disappearing into the wave of white.

I realize he had every opportunity to kill me thus far. He must be waiting for something. No time to worry about it now.

Fire . We will both need it.

And though fire clearly isn’t allowed in other exercises, or inside the dormitories ... Cleo said there were no rules right now.

I can use my flames. If only I can find them.

I close my eyes. I remember my years and years of training. My fire is in my heart. Always. I focus on my breathing. I clear my mind.

I outstretch my hand.

Nothing. It’s as if the years of training and mastery have been wiped away by this cold. As if my flames are also numb.

Annoyance flares through me. Sharp as this cold. What did I spend so many years training for? I am no master in fire. If I was, this wouldn’t be so difficult. If I was, I could actually form even a damned ember—

I growl, and my hand heats. My eyes widen—but the feeling sinks back into my skin, my anger forgotten. A single cinder falls onto the wooden pieces, like a taunt.

My hands curl into fists, just as the makeshift door to our shelter opens.

And Calder walks through, with a deer on his back.

Food . He was getting food.

His eyes find the unlit wood, and then me. He scowls. He doesn’t say anything, but again, I can almost read the word in his face.

Really?

My father’s words are sharp in my mind. Worthless. Weak .

“I’m going to get it,” I bite out. Calder only shakes his head. He leaves the shelter, and I hear hacks of his blade, over and over, cutting and skinning.

I don’t get it . Calder finishes, and walks into the shelter, and the wood is still cold and dry.

He doesn’t say a word, but I can almost feel his disdain. All he does is grunt, turn, and then fall asleep.

The shelter is soon filled with his snoring.

The storm intensifies in the night. Wind whistles through the gaps in the wood, making our shelter tremble.

I keep trying to form a fire, thinking that the relative heat from the shelter might warm me enough to find my flames again.

But nothing works. I finally fall asleep curled against the wood.