Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 151: Road Ahead (5)

Ren grinned without looking up. "He hasn’t roasted anyone yet. But the day is still young."

"I’m not throwing a fireball," Lindarion said.

Meren leaned back slightly. "Yet."

’Why do I talk to them.’

The warmth from the flame had spread just far enough to keep the worst of the cold from sinking in. Not enough to make anyone sweat, but enough to get fingers moving again. That counted.

He adjusted the flame. A flick of his wrist made it stretch taller. The heat pulsed out softer this time, like a breath.

No one commented. They just relaxed a little deeper into the stone around them.

Outside, snow still fell sideways.

The wind clawed at the mouth of the hollow, but it couldn’t quite reach in.

Lindarion leaned back until his shoulder pressed against the rock behind him. It felt like leaning into the spine of the mountain itself. Cold and unbending.

Lira finally shifted.

She reached into her coat, pulled out a flat piece of dried meat, and tore it in half. Passed one to Ren without looking.

Ren took it with a hum of approval. "Finally. I thought you were going to ration us into starvation."

Lira didn’t answer.

Meren watched the exchange with quiet betrayal. "Do I get one?"

Lira tossed him a piece. It bounced off his shoulder and landed in the snow.

He stared down at it.

"Cold meat. Snow-dipped. Truly gourmet."

Lindarion reached into his own pack and took out a smaller ration. Dry. Bitter-smelling. It crumbled at the edge when he bit into it.

Better than nothing.

Ren shifted again, closer to the flame. "You really don’t get cold, do you."

"I do," Lindarion said.

"You just hide it well."

He didn’t answer.

He felt the cold. Of course he did. But not like they did. It sank into his skin and sat there, but it didn’t crawl past his core. His mana kept it back, quiet and instinctual, like his body knew it had been through worse and wasn’t interested in losing to a little snow.

Still. His toes stung. His shoulders ached. And the tip of his nose felt like it might fall off if someone sneezed too close to it.

So yes.

He was cold.

Just not enough to show it.

The others were settling in now. More slumped than seated. Eyes half-shut, hands slowly thawing.

The fire helped.

Not just with the cold. With the quiet.

It gave them something to look at. Something to watch that wasn’t each other.

He liked that.

Lira finally broke the silence.

"Four hours of light left. If we’re moving, it needs to be soon."

Ren sighed. "Or we pretend we’re snow-covered rocks and let nature adopt us."

Ardan, still by the entrance, turned his head slightly. "The slope ahead looks bad. Steep. Crumbling."

"So we wait," Lindarion said.

"Or we climb and hope it holds."

Meren made a small choking sound.

"I vote wait."

"No one asked you," Ren said.

"I’m asking me."

Lindarion stretched one leg out. Let his foot rest near the edge of the flame. His boot steamed faintly.

"Wait," he said.

Lira looked at him. Not surprised. Just weighing the decision.

"Half an hour," she said. "Then we decide."

That was enough.

No one argued.

The fire kept burning.

Soft. Steady.

And Lindarion didn’t need to pretend he was fine anymore. Not completely.

—

Meren had stopped shivering.

That was probably a good thing.

Or a bad one.

Hard to tell.

He was curled up near the edge of the flame now, chin tucked against his chest like he was trying to disappear into his scarf.

Ren looked like she could sleep anywhere. She had her back against the stone and her legs stretched out, one boot still twitching every few seconds. Not from nerves. Just the kind of energy that didn’t shut off even in the cold.

Ardan hadn’t moved. Still at the mouth of the shelter. Still watching the slope like it might blink.

Lira sat opposite the fire, one arm resting on her knee, her gaze fixed on Lindarion like she was reading him backwards.

He tried not to notice.

Didn’t work.

He kept his eyes low, on the fire. The flame hadn’t flickered once. That was strange. No breeze, no movement. The air in the hollow felt wrapped in wool. Too quiet.

He breathed through his nose and listened.

Nothing.

No birds. No falling snow. Just silence sitting on everything like frost.

’Even the wind knows not to bother right now.’

His fingers stopped hurting. That was good. But he’d been cold long enough to know that when pain left too fast, it didn’t mean the cold was gone.

It meant it had settled in.

He let the fire expand a little.

Not by much. Just enough to push the warmth out another arm’s length. The edges of his sleeves steamed. He ignored it.

Lira leaned slightly closer to the flame. Just a tilt of her head. Not enough to be obvious.

She hadn’t looked away from him.

He cleared his throat. Quiet.

"You keep watching me like I’m going to catch fire."

"I’m watching to see if you do anything stupid with it."

He glanced up.

Her expression didn’t change.

Flat. Focused. Not cruel.

Just someone used to waiting.

"Would you stop me?" he asked.

"If I had to."

That wasn’t a threat. It was a truth she carried like a tool.

He nodded once. Didn’t press.

Ren cracked one eye open.

"You two flirting or plotting murder?"

"Can’t it be both?" Lindarion asked.

Ren hummed. "That’s the spirit."

Meren groaned. "If someone gets stabbed, make it quick. I’m too cold to react dramatically."

Lindarion sat back again, shoulders resting against the wall. The stone was warmer now. A little. Or maybe he’d just gone numb enough not to care.

The silence returned.

Not heavy. Not light. Just... there.

He liked it more than he wanted to admit.

The fire moved gently in his palm again. He didn’t need to control it anymore. It stayed where it was. Like it knew what to do.

His eyes closed for a moment.

Not sleep.

Just rest.

A beat. A breath.

He kept listening.

Nothing out there.

Just snow.