Klein put his hands back in his pockets. He sank his fingers into the fabric, and he felt the cold of the ice through the sole of his boots.
"Are we continuing?" he asked.
He slid his feet on the ice to test the grip, then resumed his nonchalant walk toward the east. Each step produced a small crunch under his sole.
"Or are you planning to turn the entire continent into an ice sheet before sunset?"
Amaera did not answer. She simply overtook him with a quick stride, her haughty grace perfectly maintained on the slippery surface. As he passed her, Klein caught a scent of lotus mixed with an odor of eternal cold, that particular lingering trace left by very high-level ice magics. She walked ahead of him without a glance, her azure dress floating behind her like a liquid train.
Klein followed her at ten meters distance, his hands still in his pockets, and his breath formed small white clouds in the polar air.
...
