Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 157: Freezing Trail (1)

Ardan turned. Caught his eye. Gave a short nod. No words. Just a good, nod.

Lindarion gave a half shrug.

'I'm not frozen, so that counts.'

The sword still leaned against the stone beside his pack. Wrapped, untouched. His hand hovered near it for a second before he picked up the bag instead.

Fingers stiff.

But not shaking.

Not anymore.

He slung it over his shoulder and looked at the others again.

"Do we keep moving?"

Lira stood.

Ren groaned.

Meren made a sound that might have been a yes or a complaint.

Ardan already had his gloves on.

Lira pulled her hood up and looked to the path beyond the ridge.

"The next stretch is narrower. Steeper."

Ren sat up. "So basically worse."

"Basically," Lira said.

Meren grunted and dragged himself upright.

Lindarion turned once to glance out beyond the overhang. The snow had lessened. Still falling, but lighter now. The kind that floated sideways, aimless, not urgent.

He breathed in.

Still cold.

But tolerable.

He looked at his hands again. They still remembered what fire felt like. What it meant to keep going even when the mountain tried to press down on you.

He flexed his fingers once.

Then stepped forward.

—

His foot sank a little too far into the snow just past the overhang.

It wasn't deep. Just loose. Dry enough to feel like powder, cold enough to bite through the laces of his boot.

Lindarion adjusted his weight and stepped clear.

The wind picked up again almost immediately. Not a gust. Just a steady pressure against his shoulder, like the mountain didn't appreciate him moving so freely.

'You had one job. Stay quiet.'

He pulled his scarf higher.

The trail was narrower now, just like Lira had warned. Two steps wide if he was being generous. Less in places. A sharp drop on the right side, the kind that looked survivable until you pictured the landing.

The others followed close behind. Ardan was second, quiet and balanced. His boots made no sound. No slip, no drag. Just a steady rhythm like he was walking on memory instead of rock.

Meren behind him was louder. Not clumsy. Just less focused. He kept muttering under his breath, too quiet to hear properly, but the tone wasn't friendly.

Ren was behind him, hands stuffed in her coat. She didn't look cold. She looked bored. Dangerous combo.

Lira brought up the rear. Always watching the shadows behind them, like she expected the mountain to grow teeth and change its mind.

Lindarion stayed near the front.

Not because he wanted to lead. Just because being first meant he didn't have to watch anyone else struggle.

He didn't like watching that.

It made his chest tighten for reasons he hadn't named yet.

'Keep walking. Don't think too hard.'

The trail curved around a jagged outcrop. Ice clung to the edge like it had grown teeth. He stepped wide to avoid brushing it.

His thoughts moved slower than his feet.

Not numb. Just heavy.

He kept going.

'What if this is all it is? Walking. Freezing. Watching others look at me like I'm supposed to know what happens next.'

He didn't.

But no one asked. Maybe they thought he was fine. Maybe that was the point.

He reached a flatter part of the path and paused for a second, letting the others catch up.

Ardan came up beside him. Looked out at the stretch ahead. Didn't speak.

Lindarion appreciated that.

Meren arrived next, huffing, dragging a bit.

"I hate this mountain," he said. "Officially."

"You said that three times yesterday," Ren said behind him.

"And it's still true."

Lindarion adjusted his scarf again. The edge had frozen to his chin. He didn't flinch.

Ren sidled up next to him and peeked over the edge.

"Still a long way up?"

"Still," he said.

She sighed. "Of course it is."

Lira came around the bend a moment later. She didn't look winded. But she didn't look relaxed either.

He watched her take in the slope, the ice, the cliff face above.

She glanced at him once.

He didn't say anything.

Her eyes lingered for half a breath too long.

Then she moved on.

He let out a breath through his nose.

'Stop reading into things.'

The wind tugged at his sleeve again.

They kept climbing. One careful step at a time. Every footfall echoed with the dull crunch of frost and old stone.

The slope didn't steepen, but it got trickier.

Patches of snow turned slick. The wind didn't push anymore, it leaned. Not enough to knock him off balance, just enough to make him think about it every time he moved.

Lindarion shifted his weight forward and stepped onto a narrow ledge. His boots held. Barely. The edge of his coat caught in the breeze behind him and flared out like a badly timed cape.

He reached back and pulled it close.

'Would be easier if this body was way taller.'

The thought wasn't bitter. Just factual. He'd gotten used to the height already, mostly. But that didn't mean he enjoyed the reminder every time he had to reach a little farther, climb a little harder.

Ardan moved up beside him again.

The man hadn't said a word all morning. Just that steady, quiet presence. It wasn't comforting, exactly. But it wasn't unwelcome.

Meren wasn't doing as well.

He stumbled again on a patch of ice. Caught himself on the rock wall. Made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

"I'm fine," he said. To no one. Or maybe to himself.

Ren didn't even turn around. "If you fall, I'm not catching you."

"Noted."

Lira was behind them. Same pace. Same rhythm. She didn't slip. She didn't speak.

Just a dark silhouette against the white.

Lindarion pressed forward.

His legs were starting to ache now. Not badly. Just enough to make him aware of how far they'd come. How much farther they had to go.

The cold didn't touch his core. That was true.

But his limbs weren't made of magic. They still had limits.