On the far side of the arena, a ring of Hunters had backed a very different creature against the wall.

“No. Way.” Twelve gasped, shocked to her core as a new terror flickered into view. Widge’s head immediately popped up, eyes bright with curiosity.

In the morning light, it was almost translucent. But in the shadows it was clearer—very tall, skeletally thin, almost colorless. Its “face” was a smooth, featureless oval. Immensely long dark hair writhed like snakes behind it. In each palm, a mouth, black and hungry, gaped in a silent scream. There was no doubt in Twelve’s mind that it was a Grim.

That changed everything. They hadn’t even covered Grims in creature classes; they were so rare and dangerous it wasn’t thought a huntling would ever come across them. Even most of the Hunters had never seen, let alone fought, one.

Forcing herself to take a breath, Twelve remembered what A Magical Bestiary had to say on the subject:

These deathly creatures stalk the Frozen Wastes of the far north and are thankfully very rarely seen. Few have attempted to study their habits, and those who have rarely survived the experience. Anecdotal evidence suggests a Grim feeds on warmth, can sense a living body from many miles away and uses this heat to track its prey.

If faced with a Grim, and you carry weapons made of bronze, then you may have a small chance of killing it in any of the usual ways, although its hide is extraordinarily tough. If not, you must flee and try to lead the Grim to a larger, more tempting prey. Never forget that a single touch from the Grim’s hands on exposed flesh means death; all warmth will be sucked out of the body by the creature’s abominable mouths. The unfortunate victim is instantly frozen to death.

Aggression: 10/10.

Danger posed: 10/10.

Difficulty to disable: 10/10.

Twelve adjusted her position and gripped the ogre’s hair with both hands as it kicked out at the Hunters surrounding it. But her attention was firmly fixed on the Grim. She saw with pride that Silver and Victory were leading a joint attack.

The Grim was backed into a corner and a shield wall held it in place. Hunters armed with bronze weapons attacked in perfectly synchronized waves, vaulting over the shield-bearers into the circle to attack, then sliding back to safety as the shields shifted to allow them out. It was a move they had often practiced in weapons training, one that Twelve had privately thought pointless. Seeing it in action now almost took her breath away.

The Grim screamed again and Twelve’s teeth chattered at the sound. With a chill in her heart, she saw that two Hunters were unmoving inside the shield wall, still standing in battle pose, their weapons readied to strike; statues of ice instead of living, breathing flesh.

The next wave of Hunters readied themselves.