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The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet. The frigid air nipped at his cheeks tinged a cherry-red hue. Fifteen-year-old Edwin Grey didn't dare take a single step; his heart lodged in his dry throat, a cold sweat lining his brow, the loud, incessant beat filling his ears. He could barely hear his own breathing over the pounding that rattled his brain, yet he could see it—mist trickling past his lips with every frantic inhale and exhale. His eyes were dead set on the dagger that was a few feet away from him; its blade gleaming in the light of the afternoon, beckoning him to reach it. It belonged to their father—but he knew that he would have to leave it behind, as much as he desired not to. “Edwin!” Through the frantic thundering of his rapidly beating heart, Edwin could vaguely hear the voice that called out to him; his older sister by five years, Meredith. He could feel his eyes on her from where she stood several feet behind, on the snowy—and safe—lakeside. “Don’t worry about father’s dagger! Are you all right?” Her tone was laced with concern and a sliver of notable fear; it was understandable, given the situation he’d found himself in. She could not reach him. They were several meters apart, divided by the frozen expanse of water that was cracking by the minute; spiderweb-like patterns sprawling out in every direction imaginable. “I–I’m fine!” His own voice trembled, and he mentally kicked himself for displaying cowardice. “I'm just—” Despite himself, the corners of his lips upturned into a small, wry, unsteady smile. “I’m stuck!” “I can see that!” The show crunched beneath Meredith’s sodden boots as she took a step. “Remember what father taught us? Lower yourself down on your knees—just be really easy—and crawl on your stomach! Can you come to me?” Edwin swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the icy air. His body felt paralyzed, not from the cold, but from the overwhelming fear that any sudden movement—even the slightest shuffle—would send him plunging into the freezing abyss below. The cracks in the ice groaned and shifted, as if taunting him, their sharp echoes piercing the otherwise still afternoon. Meredith’s voice, though laced with panic, anchored him to the present. “I'll try,” Edwin called back, his words hitching on a breath. His limbs felt heavy, uncooperative, as though they belonged to someone else. He bent his knees slowly, the ice beneath him letting out a low, mournful creak. He winced at the sound. He sucked in a sharp breath, briefly squeezing his eyes shut. Don’t look at the ice, he thought, trying to will himself to relax, just focus on her. ”You're doing great, Edwin,” she coaxed, though her own trembling hands betrayed her nerves. ”Just keep going slow. Really slow. Don’t rush.” Edwin nodded, though she likely couldn’t see it from the distance. He flattened himself onto the ice, his chest pressing against the bitterly cold surface. He bit back a gasp as the chill seeped through his thick coat and layers of clothing, biting into his skin like needles. His arms stretched out in front of him, inching forward as he tried to distribute his weight evenly. Every movement sent fresh cracks spidering outward beneath him, the sound twisting his stomach into knots. ”You can do this, brother.” It was as though she was speaking, not just to encourage him, but to fight her own mounting terror. ”Just keep your weight spread out. I’m right here, I'm not going anywhere. You're almost there.” The icy wind tore at his face, pushing stray locks of hair into his eyes. Edwin blew them away with a sharp breath, focusing entirely on the spot just in front of him. The lake groaned ominously beneath him as he slid forward another few inches. He froze, his breath hitching, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. “Meredith, it’s—!” “Don’t—Don’t stop!” His sister’s own voice shaking now. “Stopping’s worse—keep going! Just slower, okay? You’re so close!” It was true; the snow-covered ground was only a few feet away now, close enough that Edwin could see the desperation in Meredith’s wide eyes. She reached out a hand toward him, her body half-leaning over the snowbank, though she dared not step onto the ice herself. Edwin grit his teeth and pushed forward again, his body trembling from both exertion and the numbing cold. A loud crack! echoed beneath him, and suddenly the ice gave way, plunging his legs into the water. The scream that Meredith released was guttural; piercing his ears, sending an even more terrifying surge of panic through him. The shock of the icy water hit him like a thousand knives. His breath caught in his throat as his body reacted instinctively, kicking against the icy edges of the opening. The current was weak, but the weight of his soaked clothing dragged at him, threatening to pull him under. He clawed at the jagged ice around him, trying to hoist himself up, but his gloves slid uselessly over the slick surface. "Hold on! Just hold on!" Meredith was moving frantically now, her eyes darting around. She grabbed a long branch lying nearby, dragging it toward the lake’s edge. “Grab this, Edwin!” The cold was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It seeped into his bones, slowing his thoughts and stiffening his muscles. His vision blurred as panic clawed at him. He kicked again, his fingers scrabbling for purchase, but he couldn’t seem to get a grip. The sound of Meredith’s voice cut through the haze, grounding him. With what felt like the last of his strength, he reached for the branch Meredith thrust toward him, his gloved fingers clamping onto it tightly. She braced herself against the snowbank, her entire body straining as she pulled. "You’ve got to help me, Edwin! Kick your legs—push yourself forward!" Her voice broke through the fog in his mind, and he obeyed, his legs thrashing in the water as he tried to push his upper body onto the ice. It was agonizingly slow, but bit by bit, he managed to slide his chest onto the surface. Meredith didn’t stop pulling, her face pale with effort as she gritted her teeth. With one final heave, Edwin flopped onto the unbroken ice, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. Meredith dropped the branch and scrambled toward him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and hauling him further onto solid ground. He was enveloped in her warm embrace in an instant, though it did not drive away the chill that had seeped deep into his bones. Edwin eased his head against Meredith’s shoulder as she held him as close as physically possible, Edwin wrapping his limbs around his elder sister in return. “That was too close.” Her breath was warm against his skin, her fingers filing through his disheveled brown locks. They remained like that for a long moment before Meredith drew back, her worried eyes searching his worn, pale features. “All for father’s dagger—” Her hands found purchase against her brother’s frigid cheeks. “Are you all right, Edwin?” Hastily, Edwin nodded. He could feel his teeth chattering; his top and bottom jaw knocking together. “Y–Yeah,” he muttered out, “I'm okay. I’m just—” “Cold?” “Very.” Meredith didn’t waste another second. Sliding her arm beneath Edwin’s shoulders, she helped him to his feet, careful to keep him steady. His legs trembled with every step, but she held him close, supporting most of his weight as they trudged back toward the cabin nestled deep in the snowy woods. The frosty air bit at their exposed skin, but neither dared slow down—not until the warm glow of the cabin’s windows came into view. — — — The door creaked open, the faint smell of burning wood spilling out as Meredith guided Edwin inside. The warmth hit them instantly, the crackling fire in the hearth a welcome reprieve from the frigid outdoors. Their father, Gregory Grey, stood from his chair near the fireplace, his sharp, dark eyes narrowing the moment they stepped into the room. He took one look at Edwin’s soaking clothes and shivering frame and was at their side in an instant. “What happened?” Gregory’s voice was a mixture of worry and sternness, his large hands gripping Edwin’s shoulders as he studied his son. “Why is he soaked?” His eyes flicked to Meredith, searching for answers. Meredith stepped back to allow their father to take over, her voice firm but edged with lingering panic. “The ice on the lake broke while Edwin was out there. He—he fell partially through.” “You let him go out there?” Gregory’s tone sharpened, his brow furrowing deeply. “I didn’t let him do anything!” Meredith snapped suddenly. “I was getting firewood, and by the time I saw him, it was too late!” Gregory let out a low sigh, his grip tightening on Edwin’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?” His gaze softened, though his voice still carried a commanding weight. “No, j–just—” Edwin stammered, his teeth chattering harder now that he was surrounded by warmth. “Just cold.” “Go sit by the fire,” Gregory said firmly, steering Edwin toward the hearth. “Meredith, fetch some blankets. Quickly.” Meredith didn’t argue, rushing off to gather what was needed. Gregory knelt beside Edwin, peeling away the sodden outer layers of his clothing. “You could have died, Edwin,” he said quietly, his voice thick with a mix of fear and disappointment. “I—I just wanted to get your dagger back,” Edwin murmured, his eyes dropping to the floor. Gregory froze for a moment, his hands stilling as he realized what his son had risked for him. A long silence passed before he finally spoke, his tone heavy. “You could have lost far more than a dagger, son.” “I know,” Edwin whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. Meredith returned with an armful of blankets, quickly wrapping them around her brother. “He’s all right now,” she said softly, glancing at their father. Gregory stood, his shoulders tense. “We’ll talk more about this later,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “For now, just get warm.” Meredith knelt beside Edwin, her hand resting on his knee. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?” Edwin gave a slight nod, leaning back against the leg of their father’s rocking chair. As Edwin leaned slightly closer to the fire’s welcomed warmth, Gregory straightened, brushing his hands against his trousers. His eyes lingered on Edwin for a moment longer before his voice broke the quiet. “Meredith, get dinner started,” he instructed, his tone calm now but brooking no room for argument. “I—" Meredith hesitated, her lips parting as though she wanted to protest. Instead, she cast one last look at Edwin, brushing a hand gently across his damp hair. “Okay, father. Edwin, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” Edwin nodded, watching as she disappeared into the adjoining room. The faint clatter of pots and the hum of her voice as she mumbled to herself filled the cabin, but the heavy silence between Edwin and his father loomed. Gregory pulled a stool closer to Edwin, sitting across from him with his elbows resting on his knees. His dark eyes bore into his son’s, his expression unreadable. “You were lucky today,” Gregory said finally, his voice quiet. “Lucky the ice didn’t give out completely. Lucky you weren’t pulled under.” Edwin shivered—not from the cold this time, but from the implication in his father’s words. “I—I was careful,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Gregory’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something—fear, anger, or maybe a mixture of both—crossing his face. “Careful isn’t always enough, Edwin. That lake isn’t just dangerous because of the ice. There are things beneath it. Things you don’t understand.” Edwin blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Things beneath it?” he echoed, his voice hesitant. Gregory sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He seemed to weigh his words carefully before he spoke again. “That lake is old, Edwin. Older than this cabin, older than this forest. People around here tell stories about it—how it doesn’t freeze the same way other lakes do. How things have been pulled beneath its surface and never seen again.” “That’s just… stories,” Edwin said, though his voice wavered. He remembered the eerie stillness of the water, the way the ice had cracked and groaned as though it were alive. “Right?” “Maybe,” Gregory admitted, leaning back slightly. “But stories don’t come from nowhere. When I was your age, I saw a deer venture out onto the ice. It broke through, just like you did. Except the water—” He paused, his gaze darkening. “The water moved. Like something was dragging it under. There was no struggle, no flailing, just… gone.” Edwin felt the chill creep back into his bones, despite the fire’s heat. He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “You really think there’s something down there?” Gregory didn’t answer immediately, his eyes fixed on the flames. “I don’t know what I believe. But I know this: I don’t want to see you—or anyone—become another story.” Edwin nodded slowly, the weight of his father’s words settling over him. “I won’t go out there again,” he said softly. “Good.” Gregory stood, patting his son’s shoulder briefly. “Finish warming up, and then we’ll have dinner.” As Gregory stepped away toward the kitchen, Edwin remained by the fire, his mind racing. He stared into the flickering flames, unable to shake the image of the deer vanishing beneath the ice. It was just another one of their father's tales, was it not?

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Thin Ice

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Winter Crossing

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Winter Crossing

Bluebirdxx

Bluebird

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Thin Ice

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