Lucas paused his marching. And he sighed. “Frostbite.” With a wheel of his heels, he turned in time to block the hook of Eliot’s charging weapon.

Kaley watched them, her hands balling into fists. Glancing at the barrier, she dropped her backpack and broke into a sprint, aiming for that glittering white wall whose light was warm, and welcoming. Her spirit lifted as she slid to meet it—

It nearly turned her nose to a snub when she smashed against the wall, and she bounced back.

The four combatants stopped as ripples of lightening snapped across the barrier. They looked to Kaley, and all at once, the four folk rushed in her direction. Jolly summoned a wave of ice teeth that lunged over where Kaley lay. Zane tried to break it with a wall of snow, but Eliot collided against him.

Lucas though, he made it.

The youthful Patrolman threw himself atop the Trite, abandoning his weapon in the snow.

Kaley’s heart pounded as scraps of black fabric ripped from Lucas’s back where the wave rolled over him. The Patrolman gritted his teeth—the frost’s fangs tore his skin, splinters of ice stained with Rime blood tumbling off.

Kaley gaped as Lucas squeezed his eyes shut. After a heart pumping second or three, she reached into the pocket of Lucas’s jacket and stole a thing; a pearly button which he had stolen from someone else. And as the ice roared in her ears, she lifted to press her warm lips against his.

‘Twas a simple kiss, one no larger than an ink pen’s point. But Lucas did not want a simple, modest, teensy-tiny kiss.

His watery eyes blinked back open, and he kissed her back, pressing his mouth properly on hers. The snow settled around them, but only when Lucas was satisfied did he pull up to let her breathe. Kaley gasped and blinked, then blinked a time again.

Three figures stood over them. When Kaley shook her mind clear, she found three rather confusing looks:

Zane Cohen looked ready to burst. Perhaps that one was not so confusing.

Eliot Gray looked bothered.

Jolly Cheat though, he looked worried. But the most peculiar part was that none of them were fighting any longer. Past them, the barrier shifted with a burst of colour, and the boys turned.

Groaning bounded down the wall—like the echo of a turning ship—and with a surge of glassy light, a tunnel tore open. Dust of gold coiled at the edges, and a warm breeze rushed through.

Zane helped Lucas to his feet, but none spoke. For, standing in the mouth of the tunnel, was Elowin.

Zane tumbled back to his knees. Awe, and a thousand plus a thousand more feelings lingered in the air as the Patrolman peeled away his gloves with shaking fingers.