Wreckless Courage #2
“It’s better than no one worrying about you at all,” River added with a small smile.
Nic threw his hands in the air. “And here we go again—River’s tragic loneliness monologue, act three!”
“I’m just saying—Aries is lucky.”
“You can borrow Hadria for a day,” Aries offered, smirking. “See how long you last.”
Collin snorted, but something beneath the bushes caught his eye.
He knelt in the snow, pulling off his gloves to touch the smattering of massive paw prints.
Since the storm had only let up last night, whoever these prints belonged to must have visited very recently.
They appeared to be wolf prints—or a very large dog.
He examined the shrubbery, hoping the animal had left some fur behind.
Then—splat.
A snowball hit him square in the back of the head, forcing a yelp of surprise from his throat.
Yards away, Nic was grinning wickedly, another handful of snow at the ready.
Collin stooped quickly, grabbed a fistful of snow, and flung it straight at Nic’s face. “Direct hit!”
“War it is!” Nic whooped, diving behind a tree and launching a volley of snow in every direction.
River ducked, laughing. “You fools are ridiculous!”
“Pick a side, Riv,” Nic shouted.
“I pick sanity!”
Wrong answer—Nic pelted him in the arm.
What followed was chaos. Snowballs flew through the trees like flocks of white birds.
Collin rolled into a drift for cover, came up with a handful of snow, and was immediately tackled by Aries into a snowbank.
Nic climbed halfway up a slope just to launch an attack, only to slip and tumble down in an ungraceful heap.
River’s dog barked and spun in circles, utterly delighted by the madness.
Breathless and red-faced, they finally collapsed in the snow, gasping from laughter more than exertion.
“I can’t feel my hands,” Collin wheezed.
“I can’t feel my dignity,” Nic groaned.
“I told you idiots we’d get soaked before we even got to the lake,” River said, brushing snow from his coat.
The boys continued bombarding one another. By the time they reached the edge of the lake, Collin’s stomach ached from laughter.
“Don’t step like idiots,” Nic said, feigning a serious tone. He raised his walking stick like a general leading a march. “Tread lightly, gentlemen, for we enter the realm of watery death.”
“Oh god,” Collin muttered. “We’ve barely left the path and he’s already giving speeches.”
“Better a speech than falling in,” Nic replied, tapping the snow in front of him with each careful step.
River’s dog bounded ahead, leaving a trail of pawprints across the snow-covered lake.
“oh, good, she’ll fall through first,” Nic said.
“She weighs less than your ego,” Collin snorted.
“That beast’s made of fur and poor judgment,” Nic retorted, but his pace slowed as the ice began to creak softly beneath them.
They spread out naturally, each leaving a few feet between the next as the trees fell behind and the frozen lake opened before them—vast and glittering beneath the winter sun.
“All right, if we fall in, last one out buys dinner,” Nic said over his shoulder.
River snorted. “If we fall in, we’ll be dead.”
“Exactly. Saves me money.”
Aries laughed. “Nic, shut up before the lake takes you first.”
“I dare it to try.”
Collin chuckled under his breath and kept walking, letting the cold settle into his chest. He was starting to feel more alive with each step.
They walked in a loose line toward the distant shore, boots crunching, breath misting in the air. It was quiet out here, the kind of quiet that invited reflection. But Nic kept breaking it, of course.
They weren’t in a rush. Nic led the way at a careful pace, his footsteps steady across the snow-packed ice.
Collin slowed, turning a little on the spot, letting himself take in the view.
Across the expanse, the trees stood draped in layers of soft white, as if the forest had been clothed in veils.
Sunlight caught on the snow-laced branches, and where the warmth had touched, the surface had melted just enough to freeze again—leaving tiny beads that glittered like scattered pearls.
He let out a breath. God, it was beautiful.
How strange, to stand in the middle of something so cold and feel... lucky.
He’d seen the Moon Valley in every season, but winter made it feel mythic—like a place pulled from some half-remembered dream.
“Collin, stay still!” Nic shouted from the far bank.
Collin froze mid-step.
Still a dozen yards from shore, he listened—really listened—as the lake spoke beneath him. A low, guttural groan rippled through the ice, deep and ancient, vibrating up through his boots and into his chest.
His breath hitched. His spine prickled. The sound wasn’t sharp or sudden, but drawn out—like a leviathan shifting in its sleep.
A flicker of panic rose sharp in his throat. He didn’t dare look down, but in his mind, the image was instant and vivid, the ice fracturing beneath him, a sudden plunge into black water, the air torn from his lungs as the lake swallowed him whole.
Nic was on his way back with a long metal spike. “Here. This is a good spot to make our fishing hole.” He dropped to his knees and began to uncover the ice, pushing the snow into a pile around their feet.
While Aries and River remained on the bank, gathering kindling for the fire, Collin and Nic focused on cutting through the thick ice.
First, they hammered a spike through to create a small puncture.
Once the opening was wide enough, they took turns sawing through the dense layer—one slicing steadily while the other chipped away at the edges with a pick, ensuring the water didn’t refreeze as they worked.
The effort left them sweating despite the cold, but after a laborious stretch, the jagged hole was finally wide enough.
With the opening ready, they quickly set up their fishing lines, fastening hooks and weights before baiting them.
Nic secured the lines along his walking stick, then carefully laid it across the hole.
As he adjusted the placement, Collin pulled his gloves back on, his fingers stinging from the icy air.
“Damn, it’s cold,” he said, teeth chattering. He headed for the bank, eager to warm up over the quickly growing fire.
Nic ran after him, dragging his thick gloves over his own hands. “You mean, invigorating!”
The friends huddled around the fire, which had grown so large the flames were almost licking the lower branches of the trees. They took turns to collect more kindling and to chip away the new ice forming over the fishing hole.
When it was his turn to gather more firewood, Collin wandered off the snowy beach, letting his steps pull him toward the edge of the woods. Most of the forest here was a tangle of thorny undergrowth and snow-choked vines—impossible to navigate without an axe.
Still, something caught his eye.
A narrow gap between two bushes, just wide enough for a person to slip through. The branches around it looked unnaturally clipped, the cuts clean—too clean for a deer trail.
Collin shifted his bundle of firewood and stepped closer. He hesitated only a moment before dropping the logs and squeezing through the opening, brushing frost from his sleeves.
It was a trail—or had been, once. Overgrown now, but someone had been through here. Recently. He knelt, brushing a few bent twigs aside, eyes tracing the rough line of the path. Knife marks on the underbrush. Human. Deliberate.
A thrill stirred in his chest.
If he only had his blade... He could almost see himself following it, winding deeper into the forest until he hit one of the old North Town trails—maybe even something older.
But before he could take another step, they were shouting for him.
The firewood.
He cast one last glance down the narrow, shadowed path. Next time.
When Collin returned to the campfire, the boys were in deep conversation. He fed the fire before sitting down.
“She sighed like that three times in a row,” Nic said with a smug smile, arranging the newly added tinder.
“You mean she was sighing in disappointment,” Aries muttered, tossing another log on the blaze.
“She was not! And if you must know, she was too exhausted to even stand afterward.” Nic grinned. “Helen practically melted. I had to carry her out of the shed.”
“You exaggerate everything,” River said, though he couldn’t help a smile.
“I do not! I simply emphasize the highlights.”
Collin raised an eyebrow. “Does Helen know you talk about her like this?”
Nic shrugged, unbothered. “Probably. But she loves it when I nuzzle her throat. That spot right there—” he tapped the base of his neck—“makes her hum like a tuning fork.”
Collin tossed a stick for River’s dog. “You’re completely insufferable.”
“Oh, but it’s all true,” Nic said proudly. “Backs of her thighs—softest skin I’ve ever touched.”
River groaned. “Please. Spare us the anatomy lesson. I’m the doctor here!”
Aries laughed, then he leaned toward the fire. “So tell me—how do you get her in the mood when she’s not into it?”
Nic shrugged. “Sometimes she’s tired or shy. I’ve learned to go slow. Or give her a massage. That works wonders.”
“She talks to you about that?” Collin asked.
“She doesn’t need to,” Nic said with a wink. “But yeah. I ask her to tell me what she wants next. She likes that. Makes her feel in control.”
Aries nodded thoughtfully. “Hadria gets distracted sometimes. Talking helps.”
“Funny,” Collin said, twirling a stick between his fingers. “For all your bragging, I’ve heard you and Helen haven’t... actually done it.”
Nic flushed slightly, but he didn’t deny it. “Not yet. Not because I don’t want to. I just want it to be right. She’s sweet. She deserves more than a dusty workbench and sneaking around.”
For once, Nic wasn’t hiding behind a joke or a boast, There was no wink, no grin, just quiet truth. And in that truth, Collin saw something rare, restraint, tenderness, even growth. Maybe.