The Frozen Ones by Asha Abraham
Several young men and women tramped into a small room at the base of the watchtower. Stamping their feet, snow fell off of their shoulders and fur-clad boots. Their cheeks and noses were red, their toes numb with cold. They stripped off their heavy winter cloaks, hats, and mittens, discarding them by the door which had been locked and bolted to prevent the howling snowstorm (and anything within it) from entering their small sanctuary.
Gathering around the brazier filled with hot coals, the young people huddled together to warm themselves. “What’s even the point of this watch?” a young man, by the name of Godefry, asked. “No one has seen a Frozen One in years, they’d all been wiped out.”
“You know that’s not true,” Reeve, the Mason’s daughter replied. “Just because no one has seen a Frozen One in years doesn’t mean they’re all gone. I heard they retreated up north, just past the river Glomma. That’s not too far, and this storm could have brought some down to us.”
“That’s a load of horse dung,” Lowis, the Cobbler's younger brother, replied. “I heard the townsfolk are just sending us out here on a fool’s errand. They just wanted to get us out of the houses for a few hours.”
“They just wanted to get you out, more like. The rest of us were dragged along,” Reeve replied. The others laughed. Lowis was the only person in the entire village who’d gone south to Braithwaite to get a real education, and he held it over everyone else constantly.
“I saw one of ‘em,” Andras claimed. “It was tall, 2 meters at least, and as skinny as a beanpole. And it was pale blue and black all over from frostbite.”
“Yeah right. And I’m Queen Issabel. You probably just saw a sapling.” Lowis rolled his eyes. Andras was always making wild claims. Last week he’d sworn up and down the Pasvilkelva that he’d seen a royal carriage heading north to the Glomma, but of course no one believed him.
“It’s true! It was crossing the bridge and it made this terrible noise, like a howling thunder.”
“Andras, it was just thunder. This is thundersnow. You didn’t see anything, and if you did it was probably just your brain freezing over from the cold and making you see things.”
A howling burst of thunder rang out, dragging on for several seconds. Everyone was silent; it sounded uncannily like a wolf summoning its pack to close in on prey.
“See?” Lowis said. “It’s just- just the wind.” They heard it again. It sounded closer.
Nervously, Andras moved to grab a spear from off the wall. A few of the others followed.
“Oh come on,” Lowis groaned. “You’re not actually going to believe him, are you?”
Hugo, a younger boy, shrugged nervously. “It-it sounded like something. And I think I saw a figure at some point. What if one of the Frozen Ones is out there?”
Another howl of thunder echoed, close enough to rattle the windows and shake the door, the latch coming undone. They all jumped. Lowis moved to relatch the door. “You’re all a bunch of-” He never got to finish his sentence. Hugo shrieked as an icicle protruded from Lowis’ back, spearing him through the door, pulling him out and throwing him into the storm.
An icy wind whistled through the room as a tall figure stepped through the empty doorway, standing where Lowis had been just moments ago. It was tall, as skinny as a bean pole, with blue and black skin from frostbite. The Frozen Ones had returned.