Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 160: Freezing Trail (4)

He glanced at the others again.

Ren. Still lounging like this was a mild inconvenience and not a death-slope.

Meren. Pale but alive. And somehow still dramatic.

Ardan. A boulder with a blade.

Lira. Distant. Focused. Unshakable.

'My team.'

That word caught him off guard.

He didn't say it out loud.

But it stayed with him.

Soft. Solid. Strange.

Team.

He'd fought alone before. Survived alone. Even in the academy, most of his victories had been personal. Observed, maybe. Admired. But never shared.

This was different.

Ren stood. Stretched like a cat and swung her coat tight around her again.

"Alright," she said. "Let's get moving before I start liking this cave."

Ardan didn't respond. He was already walking.

Meren groaned, but got to his feet.

Lira just nodded once and turned toward the trail.

Lindarion let the flame fade.

He stood last.

The air outside was colder now. But the warmth from the fire lingered in his bones.

He stepped out into the snow.

—

The slope greeted them like it hadn't seen people in a century. Cold. Quiet. Unimpressed.

Snow clung to the rock face in jagged stripes, peeled by the wind and frozen in half-melted waves. Their boots sank past the ankle now.

Crunching sounds came with every step. Heavy. Dragging. Like the mountain wanted them to feel it.

Lindarion squinted through the haze.

It wasn't white. Not exactly. More like gray mixed with stubborn silence. The kind of silence that settled behind your ears and made you question if your friends were still walking with you or had dropped off one by one without saying anything.

He flexed his fingers inside his gloves. Still warm. Still working. The fire affinity pulsed quiet beneath the surface of his skin. Steady. Present.

He looked ahead.

Meren's back was easy to spot. The guy had tied a bright red cloth to his shoulder strap. For "visibility," he said. More like for attention. But right now, Lindarion didn't mind.

Ren walked next to him, coat pulled tight, eyes tracking the slope like it might start something. She wasn't even breathing hard.

Lira moved like a shadow. Somehow ahead without ever looking like she rushed.

Ardan kept to the rear. Probably counting steps. Or exits. Or every possible way this trail could kill them.

Lindarion exhaled slow through his nose.

The cold bit at his face. His scarf had frozen again, but he didn't bother fixing it. It would thaw eventually. Or not. Either way, the path wasn't going to wait.

He picked up his pace.

The snow thinned near a curve in the ridge. Just for a moment. A brief patch where the stone broke through and gave him something solid to land on. He used it. Pulled forward. Closer.

The rest of the group came into better view.

He didn't say anything.

Just seeing them was enough.

He matched their pace. Not leading. Not dragging behind. Just part of the line now. A quiet rhythm. Crunch. Step. Breath.

Ren glanced over.

"You alive back there?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered.

She smirked. "Good. We need someone to blame if the next cave is full of snow rats."

"Snow rats?"

"Big. Hairy. Rude."

"You made that up."

She didn't answer.

Lira kept her focus on the trail ahead. Her voice came flat. Calm. "No caves. Not until midday."

Meren groaned. "That's at least a hundred years from now."

"It's two hours," Ardan said.

"Same thing."

Lindarion adjusted his grip on the strap across his chest. It had started rubbing again, but he didn't care. Not now.

He was with them.

Walking.

Not thinking too far ahead.

Not frozen.

Not alone.

His legs burned a little now. But it was the kind of burn that meant progress. He welcomed it.

Another gust of wind pushed through the trees above. The branches didn't creak. Just swayed and let it pass.

The mountain didn't care about them.

But they kept moving anyway.

—

The trail angled again. Not steep, just enough to remind his calves they hadn't rested in hours.

Lindarion shifted the weight of his pack for the fifth time. It didn't help. The strap still dug into the same spot on his shoulder like it had developed a personal grudge. He muttered something under his breath and ignored it.

The cold had stopped feeling sharp. Now it just pressed in. Soft and heavy, like a blanket that hated him.

His breath fogged slower than before. Not because he was warm. Just because his body had stopped wasting effort.

His fingers tingled.

Not in a good way.

He pushed his gloves tighter against his palms and flexed once.

Still there.

Still moving.

Meren stumbled ahead of him. Just a little. Like his boot caught on something invisible. He caught himself, but not before letting out a frustrated huff.

Ren didn't turn around. "Don't die."

Meren lifted a hand weakly. "If I do, bury me somewhere dramatic."

"You'll be fertilizer for the next ice flower patch," Ardan said from the rear.

"That counts."

Lindarion almost smiled.

Almost.

He looked to the side.

Lira walked at the front, coat pulled tight, her scarf wrapped twice around her neck. She moved like the wind wasn't there.

Like the cold had made a deal with her and agreed to stay out of the way. Her boots didn't slip. Her posture never dropped. Even her breath was steady.

He didn't know how she did that.

He wasn't struggling, not exactly. But every part of him felt like it had been dipped in frost and then wrung out. He kept pace. He could fight if he had to. But this kind of cold… it got into your thoughts.

His mind wandered.

He hated when it did that.

'This is better, though. Better than the cell. Better than the dark.'

The wind picked up again. It howled low through the trees somewhere above. The sound scraped across the rocks and vanished down the slope like it was late for something.

Ren slowed her steps. Not much. Just enough that Lindarion noticed.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You look quiet."

"I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"Firewood."

She blinked. "You're joking."

"Maybe."

"Because if you're serious, that's the most dramatic thing you've ever said."

He didn't answer. Mostly because he wasn't sure if he was joking either.

His core pulsed gently. Still steady. Still warm. The fire affinity lingered in his chest like a second heartbeat.

If he called it up again, he could clear the snow around them in a blink. Dry their coats. Burn warmth into the ground.

But he didn't.

Not yet.

It felt wrong to cheat this part.

They were climbing a mountain. Struggling. Cold. Tired. Together.

If he made it too easy, that would vanish.

Lindarion kicked a loose rock down the side of the trail. It bounced once, twice, then disappeared into the snow-drifted slope.

Meren watched it go.

"Think we'll fall that far if we trip?"

"Probably farther," Ardan said.

"Cool. Motivating."

The snow thickened again. It came in sideways now, slicing through the air in slow, deliberate sheets. Like the sky wanted to show off.