Sometimes, you just can’t catch a break. This was one of those times. The first shot at Frost went wide, not so the second. Fortunately that was warning enough he dodged. A third icicle embedded itself in the tree he ducked behind, sending splinters flying. Frost tried to remember the Mythbusters episode about hurricanes, wondering how fast the ice was thrown to impact like that. Not that it would be useful to clock them. What he needed was an exit strategy. He still didn’t know where they were being thrown from.

A stand of dormant trees, thin dust of snow on the ground does not yield a lot of martial options, offensive or defensive. Frost dove, hearing the whistle as another ice spear narrowly missed his ear and ducked behind another tree. He felt around with a foot, finding a downed tree limb. A quick glance showed he could probably lift it. It would have to be good enough. Frost waited for the next shot, and dropped to snatch up the branch. Ran for the next tree and felt added weight push push forward as an icicle stabbed into the back of his jacket and stuck.

The branch was unwieldy, fanning out into twigs at it’s terminus. Two more icicles stripped bark from either side of the narrow tree between Frost and his attacker confirmed he was out of options. Unfortunately that meant getting closer, not farther from his would-be murderer. Not exactly ideal.

Frost waited a moment, keeping the flitting motion of his assailant in sight and the tree between them as best he could. No obvious opening revealed itself, two more icicles stabbing the tree and a third narrowly missing toes as it made a hole in the top of his shoe. All right then.

He kicked the icicle out of his shoe and ran at angles toward the thrower. Felt a burning across his cheek at one near miss, couldn’t afford to react to it. Fortunately, once more the attacker didn’t seem to realize Frost could see him. So it remained interested on pitching icy death right up until he got in range and swung.

The tree branch was just as cumbersome as he expected, its shoots and branches tangling in the tree far short of hitting Frost’s assailant. It did have the effect of thoroughly surprising the creature, so it temporarily forgot what it was doing. And to dodge the grab for it’s ankle. Frost hadn’t intended to hit it with the branch. Instead he snatched the thing from its perch, clamping down on the immediate sick feelings as he proceeded to club it against a tree trunk.

With each sickening thud Frost was sure he was driving the nails into the frame for his room in hell. But he did not stop. If he stopped with it still conscious, he felt sure it would kill him for good and for certain. Frost battered it against the tree until his arm screamed and he couldn’t take the sound of it any more. When he did let go, it dropped in the snow and didn’t move. Frost couldn’t tell if it was alive or dead, and wasn’t keen to find out. He collapsed to his knees, giving his breakfast to the earth. Eventually he found his breath, still alive. It remained where he dropped it. It might’ve been breathing. Frost ran home.

“Morning hotstuff!”

“Oh? Perhaps you should be more careful to avoid burns.” The look Amber speared him with made his heart quail. He winced, this time justly guilty.

“I am sorry. That was low of me.”

“Low for you.” She emphasized the pronoun. “Or are you finally showing that you aren’t who everyone,” she stressed the word so that he couldn’t miss who she meant, “thought you were after all?”

Frost bowed low over her hand which she snatched back before he could kiss her knuckles. He stayed bent for a moment.

“My apologies. I have no excuse, save that I am given to making mistakes.”

“Think carefully my Frost,” her voice was cool, and he winced again at the pain it could not hide from him, “what choices you made are mistakes.”

“Yes mi’lady.”

“Oh stand up already, you’ll draw stares.”

Frost took his time unbending, offering the most sincere smile he could. “I am not afraid to be found apologizing when I should.”

“That’s all well and good,” she said, meaning it was anything but, “however- What happened to your foot?”

Oh, right. He’d forgotten how these were still his best shoes for snow. But hey, the sole was intact. Amber was glaring again. Worry and anger constricted Frost’s heart.

“My foot is fine,” he put a reassuring hand on her arm, turning to face her fully. “It just hit my shoe.”

“It?” her voice had gone dangerously quiet, “What it? Wh- your face!”

Well. Didn’t have to worry about trying to bring it up now. And it distracted her from being mad at him. Good things, right?

“A graze Amber. You should see the other guy.”

“What. Happened.” No dodging the compulsion. Never pleasant all the same.

“Out for a jog last afternoon. Kicking myself mostly. Icicles thrown at me. Managed to grab him before he hit me proper, clubbed him on a tree.”

“Describe him.” Part of Frost wanted to resist, though he had meant to tell her everything anyway.

“Maybe 2-3 feet tall, long arms, faintly green white skin, blue-white hair, dark eyes.”

Huh. He hadn’t actually remembered seeing any of that, beyond rough size. Frost filed that away for future consideration.

“Frost,” shared emotions or not, he couldn’t get a read on Amber’s tone. “I want you to listen carefully. You will not die on me. Do you understand?”

It was as much a command as any she’d given. He felt the compulsion slide through his system, even as he wondered how he could go about obeying such an order.

“Yes ma’am. Planned on avoiding it myself.”

She nodded satisfaction, though he recognized the glisten of tears at the corners of her eyes as she turned away. It left a warmth in his gut, even as he was sad to see them there.

“Frost, the door.”

And there was the other foot again. Frost clamped his jaw before any retort made it out as he caught the door, unable to do otherwise, and held it for Amber to pass. He refused to be baited again, and not because he’d have to apologize even more. Why did she have to do that? Some day he was just going to ask her straight out. He knew better than to try at school.