Warmth Beneath the Ice

By Jennifer Talkington

My name is Bryn, Shadow Fang of the Moonfell Pack. I am second only to Aric and sworn to guard his flank through storm and shadow. I have fought bear, I have run beside lightning, yet nothing matched the night the ice woke beneath our paws.

It began with stillness. Snow fell thick as the breath of gods, coating Moonfell Forest in white silence. The lake lay black beneath a perfect sheet of ice, wide as the sky and just as unknowable. Even the wind dared not disturb that hush.

Aric called me at dawn.

Walk with me.

His mindspeech landed like a heavy paw across my ribs.

We moved through drifts that swallowed our paws and glittered like shattered constellations. Aric halted beside the lake and lifted his muzzle. Frost crackled along his whiskers.

There is something beneath the ice. Alive, waiting, listening.

I felt it too. A heartbeat under frozen water. Slow, steady, old.

What kind of heartbeat? I asked.

One that remembers, Aric replied.

Before I could question further, another wolf moved across the ice with the silence of falling snow. Lira, our seer. Her fur was pale moonlight and her eyes were of green fire, bright enough to make a lesser wolf forget winter existed.

I attempted dignity and nearly skidded on ice. She pretended not to notice. I suspect she noticed everything.

That night the pack gathered around the fire. Flames flickered like gold and opened our shadows across the snow. The air smelled of roasted elk, wet fur, pine resin and a hint of someone having rolled in juniper berries. Probably Serin. She does that to feel mystical.

Lira settled beside me. Close. Too close for my heart to maintain a sensible rhythm.

You feel it too she said softly.

Yes. Something is underneath. Something waiting to be found.

Her gaze did not leave the ice.

I had a vision. A memory locked beneath the lake. A treasure that does not glitter but burns.

I swallowed. Burns how?

Like love.

Her voice trembled like the first thaw.

My tail thumped once. Very dignified. Very controlled. Possibly less dignified than I wanted.

Before I could speak truth, the lake cracked like lightning splitting bone. The pack surged to their feet. Snow exploded under paws.

A faint glow pulsed beneath the ice, bright as ember, slow as heart.

Boom.

The lake answered.

Serin whispered, Well. That does not look boring.

Even Aric’s whiskers twitched.

We stood shoulder to shoulder, the entire pack facing the lake as if winter itself held its breath. The glow intensified.

Something ancient was rising.

Aric stepped onto the ice. He did not slip. The rest of us tried to copy him. Some with grace. Some with enthusiastic but undignified enthusiasm.

The council formed. Sparks blew across ice and skittered like red stars.

Aric spoke first. We must decide how to meet what wakes.

Castel growled, large and impatient. If it comes to fight, we shred it.

Serin countered. What if it brings something good? A gift? A warm blanket perhaps?

Castel stared. A blanket would be useful but highly unlikely.

It was probably the first time in history Castel and I agreed.

Lira stepped into the circle and her voice carried like ice cracking at sunrise.

There is memory beneath this lake. A memory of love. A memory that was buried because we were not ready to bear it.

The pack fell silent. Even the wind leaned closer.

Aric turned to me. Bryn, your counsel.

My throat tightened. Every eye turned to me. Lira’s presence pressed against my flank like heat under fur.

We stand watch. If this is love, we do not greet it with teeth. Fear will shatter what warmth could heal.

Aric nodded once.

The pack breathed as one.

And then the ice burst open.

Flame erupted where ice shattered. Steam roared. Snow flew skyward like startled birds. From beneath dark water rose a stag forged entirely of fire. Antlers glowed like burning constellations. Heat spread across the lake and thawed snow into silver mist.

Some wolves bowed. Some yelped. Castel muttered, That is definitely and categorically NOT a blanket.

The stag spoke inside our minds. A voice like embers and ancient oak.

I was sealed beneath the lake when grief froze your pack. Love died, memory faded and fire fell silent. I rise because fire has been remembered.

Aric stepped forward. What lies beneath? What treasure wakes?

The stag’s gaze turned to Lira, then to me. My fur prickled like lightning across spine.

Unspoken love sealed your memory away.

Speak it and all will burn bright.

Remain silent and winter endures.

My heart slammed like hooves on frozen earth.

Lira’s eyes glistened. I wanted to speak. I wanted to say every truth I had ever swallowed.

Before I could, howls split the night.

Wolves spilled from the tree line like a black tide.

Frostclaws. Raiders. Ice-eyed and raven-hearted.

Their Alpha, Varyn, stepped forward with teeth like pale blades.

This warmth belongs to us.

His voice was thin as hunger.

We will take what burns.

Aric braced. You step on Moonfell ice. Turn back or freeze beneath it.

Varyn’s smile was a broken moon.

Love is a weakness. Fire is power. We will take fire.

He lunged.

Battle erupted like stormfire.

Wolves collided across ice. Teeth met throat. Blood streamed and turned the snow red. I fought at Lira’s flank, shredding Frostclaws that struck for her. Serin tripped one into a snowbank and informed him politely to stay there.

Varyn broke through lines and charged the stag.

Lira leapt into his path.

Too slight, too brave.

His jaws tore through her shoulder and she fell, her screaming breath spilling into the frosty air like shattered moonlight.

I reached her with a roar that was ripped from my marrow.

Not you. Not now.!

The Fireheart Stag bowled Varyn aside with antlers of sunfire.

Heat seared across snow.

Varyn dissolved into a dust cloud of ash.

The Frostclaws, now leaderless, scattered, tails low, howls thin as breaking glass.

But Lira lay bleeding.

I pressed nose to hers.

Stay. Please.

Her voice was as soft as snowfall. We waited too long.

Cold crawled beneath her fur. My heart clawed for words. I forced them out like breath from drowning.

I love you. Lira, I have always loved you.

The lake flared gold.

The Fireheart Stag stood over us.

Truth is spoken. Memory awakens.

Beneath the ice, something rose.

Not treasure.

Not a blade.

But a wolf stepped into moonlight.

Tall. Silver. Eyes bright as living diamonds.

Darya.

Aric’s mother.

Lost Alpha.

Returned in memory and spirit.

Aric fell to his knees.

Mother?

Her voice shimmered across snow.

Your pack froze when I fell. Silence buried love beneath ice. You have broken silence. You have called spring.

She touched her nose to Lira’s brow.

Light crept across her wound.

Blood dried and evaporated. Fur knit clean.

Lira inhaled fully. Strong.

Alive.

Her eyes found mine.

I heard you. I have always loved you too.

I trembled like the trees in the thaw losing heavy burdens of snow.

Darya turned to Aric.

You have led with endurance, but the pack needs more. It needs warmth at its helm. It needs love, spoken aloud. Now Bryn must lead.

Aric pressed his head to mine.

You were never meant to follow forever.

For once, I was too stunned to trip over my own paws.

I accepted.

Not by conquest, but by my promise.

The pack howled beneath burning moonlight. Snow melted where our paws danced. Firelight blazed from stag-antlers above us. Winter finally cracked.

Lira curled beside me. Her fur brushed mine as the new season unfolded. Her laughter echoed quiet, warm, and astonished. She then murmured in my mind,

You do realise, that everyone knew we loved each other except us.

I sighed

Yes sighed. We are possibly the least subtle wolves who ever lived.

She nipped my ear. Alpha suits you.

Only because you stand beside me.

Our lives continued. Aric served as Elder Fang and advisor. Serin continued to roll in juniper to feel mysterious. Castel discovered blankets are overrated, but he enjoys sitting suspiciously close to fires.

Sometimes the Fireheart Stag returns. We share silence comfortably. I suspect he approves.

And every winter I walk to the lake at dawn and listen beneath the ice.

Not for treasure.

Not for memory.

For the heartbeat of love, warm beneath cold.

Because love does not freeze when spoken.

It warms.

It thaws.

It saves.