Immediately the cold air plunged deep into his lungs and chilled his face. Tomas pulled his hat over his ears and stepped out into the street. He groaned; the snow didn’t look right, tainted by the orange light of the streetlamps. He decided to head for the patch of wasteland behind the shops, where no artificial light could corrupt the white snow. It would, however, mean crossing over the road into enemy territory. Although Tomas was not a member of the gangs that occupied his neighborhood, he would instantly be recognized for being in the wrong part of town. But he’d been scared for too long and he wasn’t going to let those scum ruin this perfect evening.

He headed for the bridge, gritting his teeth against the cold and those that would threaten him. The scene looked straight from a book. He half expected to hear the tingling of bells at any minute, and turn to see the Snow Queen approach in her sleigh. She would be both terrible and beautiful to look upon, and would no doubt, want to take him back to her palace. Once there, she would seduce and enslave him until his dying day - perhaps a risk worth taking. He laughed at the thought, and strode on. Suddenly, the snow turned whiter and Tomas stopped. He glanced up to see the moon’s silver face watching over him through a break in the clouds. Tomas could hear his Dad’s voice, as he told him the ridiculous story of how their family came by the name of Moone. He turned away sharply, from both the moon and the memory.

Thick icicles hung from the ugly pedestrian bridge, crossing the boundary between the rival gangs. On any other evening, they would be here, taunting each other from opposite sides, before it escalated into a confrontation in the middle. But tonight it was deserted. Perhaps it was too cold for the would-be gangsters, or they’d found some other distraction on a night like this. Few people used the bridge, even in daytime, preferring to chance their luck on the busy road. In this kingdom the trolls lived on the bridge.