Aries hurled a snowball across the fire. “In your dreams.”
“Hey! I’m just trying to help her explore her options.”
They all burst into wild laughter, tension dissolving into smoke and steam.
“I’ll go check on our fish,” said Collin. He scrambled away from his friends, chuckling as they continued to tease each other.
A thin layer of ice had formed over their fishing hole, so Collin chipped it away with the pick. Two of the lines were still empty, but the other had lost its bait—or had it stolen. He hurriedly re-baited the hook, impatient to rejoin his friends.
A crow’s feather lay a few yards away. It gleamed shiny black against the purity of the snow. He trotted over the ice to retrieve it. The creaks and groans under his feet made his heart drum with excitement.
The frozen lake in midwinter always held a strange kind of magic. It felt like standing on the edge of a secret world—thin ice stretched over deep, black water, barely separating him from theunknown. Just a few inches of crystal over a vast, glacial silence. The danger of it was thrilling.
Collin remembered watching older boys once, years ago, when he was small and invisible. They had cut a hole in the ice and jumped in, screaming from the shock. He had wanted to join them so badly—had crept closer with wide eyes and shivering limbs. But they only laughed and chased him away.
That longing had never left him.
He craved anything that made his heart race—climbing too high, running too fast. The risk was part of the reward. The ice plunge still lingered in the back of his mind like a dare left unanswered.
He had tried to convince Aries, of course, but Aries always hesitated at the edge. It wasn’t that he lacked courage—but Collin possessed something a little different. A kind of wildness, reckless courage, some would call it, the kind that didn’t stop to ask permission or consider the cost until the moment had already passed.
Aries was the voice of reason. Collin was the one who lit the fire.
Still, even Collin sometimes wondered why he yearned so badly to test the edge of things. Maybe it wasn’t about bravery. Maybe it was about proving to himself that he still felt something—sharp, real, undeniable.
Maybe that was why the ice called to him now.
Collin plopped back into his place beside the crackling fire. He twirled the long feather casually between his fingers. “What are we talking about?”
“If you had to change your job—pick anything, no limits—what would it be?” River asked.
Aries grinned. “Musician. A real one. Not just strumming old songs around the fire.”
“Chief steward,” Nic said proudly. “I’d run the biggest estate in Crimisa, throw wild parties, and manage a whole fleet of servants.”
“You just want the power and the wine,” Collin said.
“Exactly,” Nic agreed.
“Collin?” River asked. “What would you do?”
He stared into the fire for a moment. “A sailor. I want to see the world. Explore islands no one’s mapped. Find something untouched.”
Nic gave him a proud clap on the back. “That’s the most Collin answer I’ve ever heard.”
Collin chuckled, warmed by more than just the flames.
“Ask us a question, Collin,” said River.
He tapped the crow’s feather against his boot. “What’s the most thrilling thing you’ve ever done?”
River perked up. “Delivering a baby. First time alone. The mother was panicking, the baby wasn’t coming fast enough—thought I’d faint. But I pulled through.”
“No!” Nic covered his ears. “Too many fluids in that story.”
“It was beautiful!” River said. “And terrifying.”
Aries shifted uncomfortably. “Is childbirth really that horrible?”
