Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 161: Freezing Trail (5)

Ren pulled her scarf higher. "It's picking up again."

"Yeah," Lira said. "I know a place to stop."

Lindarion's feet kept moving. He didn't look up. Just followed the footprints ahead. Let the cold numb everything but the sound of steps and breath.

He wasn't weak.

But he was tired.

And sometimes that was worse.

He reached for his mana, just a little. Let the warmth slip into his chest like a whisper.

—

The snow didn't let up.

Not for the next few turns. Not for the next five dozen steps. It just kept falling, soft and quiet, like it was trying to cover every trace they'd ever existed.

Lindarion walked in silence.

His boots crunched through the layer of powder with a rhythm that felt too steady to be his. One foot. Then the next. He didn't think about walking anymore.

Just about the little things. The weight of his pack. The way the cold stuck to the underside of his coat. The way his breath barely curled anymore before the wind pulled it away.

He squinted against the flurry and caught a glimpse of Lira, maybe ten paces ahead, pausing near a bend in the path.

She didn't turn.

Just lifted one hand and pointed.

"There," she said, barely loud enough to hear.

They rounded the corner.

The path opened slightly, just wide enough to hold all of them if they stood close. A line of stone jutted up on one side, maybe five feet high, enough to block the worst of the wind.

There was a shallow indent beneath it, like the mountain had once offered someone a place to sit and decided not to take it back.

Ren stepped in first and dropped her pack without ceremony. She exhaled a long, theatrical breath and flopped down against the rock.

Meren followed, collapsed, and immediately curled in on himself like a snow-drenched question mark.

Ardan scanned the trees, the ridge, the sky. Then he lowered his pack with a soundless sigh and sat without taking his eyes off the trail behind them.

Lindarion found a spot off to the side and crouched, elbows on his knees. The stone was wet. Not frozen, but not dry either. His gloves stuck slightly to the surface. He ignored it.

His shoulders ached. That dull, steady pull that came from not sleeping properly. Or not sleeping at all.

He took a breath.

Then another.

The air still stung. Not like blades. Just like it didn't want him there.

Lira was the last to sit. She didn't fold, didn't collapse, didn't even sigh. Just lowered herself down against the stone like someone who knew how to make even exhaustion look orderly.

Ren's eyes drifted shut. Her arms folded over her chest like a shield. Meren mumbled something unintelligible and gave up halfway through the sentence.

Lindarion rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead.

His thoughts didn't feel sharp anymore.

They just drifted. Weightless.

A part of him wanted to call the fire again. Just enough to warm the edge of the space. Not a blaze. Not anything obvious. But his core felt so steady now. So warm. It whispered constantly now, not in words, but in feeling.

He didn't.

He watched snow fall instead.

Fat flakes this time, slower. Gentle. They landed on Meren's scarf and stuck. Melted on Ardan's shoulder and slid off. Caught in the corner of Ren's hair and refused to leave.

Lindarion stretched his legs. His boots slid forward half an inch on the stone. He let them.

He leaned back against the curve of the rock. It was cold. His coat didn't help much. But he didn't care.

His eyes dropped closed for one second.

Then another.

Not sleep. Not yet.

Just resting.

The snow kept falling.

—

They moved again after maybe half an hour. The snow didn't stop, but it softened just enough for visibility. The cold hadn't eased, but it stopped biting. It just sat there. Heavy and present. Like a coat you couldn't take off.

Lindarion's legs burned by the time they reached the rise. Not the sharp kind of pain. Just slow, steady weight dragging behind his knees and through his ankles. Each step took a little more focus than the last.

He caught himself checking his breath again. It still came easy. No tightness. No cracking in the ribs. That had to count for something.

Ardan didn't slow down. Lira didn't either. The others grumbled, but no one complained too hard. They had all learned by now that arguing with a mountain didn't make it any flatter.

Ren kicked at a chunk of snow that had started to freeze against her boots. "I swear this slope wasn't this long when we came down yesterday."

"We didn't come down yesterday," Meren muttered. "That was a tree. You slipped and hallucinated a path."

"I was testing gravity," she said.

"You failed."

Lindarion's lips twitched, just barely.

They rounded a cluster of thick rock formations that broke the wind for a moment. Then the trail dipped once more before narrowing into a jagged rise that bent against the cliffside.

Lira paused there. She raised one hand and didn't speak. Her head turned slightly, eyes narrowed at the shape of the slope ahead. Her breath fogged once, then cleared. She nodded, more to herself than anyone.

"This is it."

Meren blinked. "This? This is what we've been crawling toward?"

Lira didn't answer. She walked forward.

The pass was narrow. Too narrow for two people side by side. Each wall of stone pressed in with a jagged stubbornness, like they didn't want company.

Ren followed after Lira without hesitation.

Meren waited until Ardan gestured. Then he groaned once and squeezed in, boots scraping along the inside.

Lindarion stepped in last. The rock was close on both sides, but not in a way that felt threatening. Just… old. Like it had been here before the road, before the travelers, before the air even decided to cool.

Each step echoed faintly now. Not loud. Just enough to feel the distance under their feet.

The slope dipped once more, then opened.

They stepped into a natural cut in the cliffside. A wide platform of broken stone, flattened out just enough to stand. Snow dusted the corners.

Small stones were gathered in little wind shelters built against the walls. A camp. Or a resting point. Someone had been here before.

The sky opened above them, pale and streaked with soft clouds. They weren't low enough to choke the light anymore. Just drifting high like slow thoughts.

Lira stepped to the edge.

Lindarion followed her gaze.

A sharp drop led to a frozen lake far below. Trees circled the basin, bare and quiet, their branches tipped with frost.

Beyond that, a sloping ridge wound around a darker valley. And past that… rooftops. Smoke.

Small. Faint.

But real.

A village.

Meren stepped up beside him and blinked. "Wait. That's it?"

"That's it," Lira said.

Ren tilted her head. "You sure?"

"It's where I said we'd go."

"Still weird to hear you actually follow through on something," Ren said.

"I didn't do it for you."

"Rude," Meren muttered.

Lindarion stepped forward until his boots touched the edge of the stone.

He didn't say anything. Just stood there, breathing.

His breath came easy.

The cold was still here. Still deep in his coat, his gloves, the edge of his sleeves. But it didn't matter.

The path was clear.

The wind, for once, didn't scream.