Chapter 3
Chapter three
Day four at Frosthaven, and Ivy had officially lost her patience with me.
"You have to unpack the rest of your stuff."
"I unpacked."
"You unpacked clothes. And books. And that one weird knife." She gestured at my side of the room. "Where are your photos? Your posters? Your... I don't know, personality?"
"I have a personality."
"You have a bag under your bed that you refuse to open. That's not a personality, that's a red flag."
She wasn't wrong about the bag. It sat there zipped shut, holding everything I hadn't wanted to deal with yet. A few things from the orphanage. A drawing Alexandra had made me — allegedly a wolf, looked more like a potato with legs. A photo of me, Gregor and Rae from last winter.
Unpacking meant settling in. I wasn't here to settle.
"The bag is fine where it is," I said.
"The bag is a cry for help."
"The bag is under my bed and therefore none of your business."
Ivy threw a pillow at me.
"You're impossible," she said, but she was smiling. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But when you finally crack and need to talk about whatever tragic backstory is hiding in that bag, I'll be here."
"Noted."
"With snacks."
"Also noted."
She flopped back onto her bed with a dramatic sigh. "I can't believe classes haven't even started yet. This orientation week is going to kill me."
"You survived your overnight hike."
"Barely. My group leader was this tiny woman named Ms. Vance who hikes like she's being chased by demons. I thought I was in decent shape." She rubbed her calves. "I was very wrong. How was yours?"
I thought about the campfire. The Amarok story. James sitting beside me in the dark, saying things I didn't know how to answer.
"Fine."
"Just fine?" She propped herself up on her elbows. "Because I heard from Charlie that you set a pace so brutal Mr. Boone had to tell you to slow down. And that you and Cowboy had some kind of moment by the fire."
"Charlie talks too much."
"Charlie is a gift to gossip everywhere." She grinned. "So? Moment? Details?"
"There was no moment."
"That's not what Charlie said."
"Charlie wasn't sitting next to me."
"Aha! So James was sitting next to you!"
I threw the pillow back at her. She caught it, laughing.
"I'm just saying," she continued, "you came back from that hike looking at James like he was a problem you couldn't solve. And he's been looking at you like you hung the moon ever since."
"Nothing happened. We talked. That's it."
"You talked." She said it like I'd confessed to a crime. "About what?"
“Survival. Campfire stuff. He said you mentioned I like mountain climbing.”
Ivy studied me, her expression shifting from teasing to thoughtful. “You know, for someone who says nothing happened, you’re being awfully defensive. I just… noticed your books.”
I didn't have an answer for that.
She let it go, reaching for the orientation packet on her desk. "Okay, we should probably figure out our schedules. Apparently we get some choice in the afternoon sessions?"
I grabbed my own packet. Morning blocks were mandatory survival basics. Afternoons offered electives — Arctic First Aid, Wilderness Navigation, Weather Pattern Recognition, Psychological Resilience Training.
This was what I came for. Not the regular classes starting next week. This.
"I'm doing the tracking module," I said. "And advanced first aid. And weather patterns, and—"
"All of them? You're doing all of them?"
"As many as I can fit."
Ivy stared at me. "It's orientation week. We're supposed to be easing into things. Making friends. Finding the good snacks."
"I know where the good snacks are. Your desk, third drawer."
“Okay, fair. But still.” She shook her head. “Most people are just trying to survive this week. You’re treating it like boot camp.”
“I like being prepared.”
“There’s prepared,” she said, her eyes flicking down to my legs, “and then there’s whatever you are. I mean—have you seen your calf muscles? And you’re always running the stairs.”
She flipped through her packet, already circling things with a pink highlighter. “Fine. I’ll do tracking with you. Sounds less boring than Psychological Impacts of Extended Darkness.”
“That one’s actually useful. The dark time hits hard up here.”
She made a face. “Sounds depressing.”
“It can be.” I kept my voice light. “But some things can only happen in the dark.”
Ivy looked up slowly. “That’s kinky.”
“Not what I meant.”
She shrugged. “Still counts.”
She tapped her packet with the highlighter. “Tracking. Final answer.”
Lunch was long tables, pretty good food, and two hundred students trying to figure out where they belonged.
Ivy and I found seats near the window. I was reviewing the afternoon schedule when she spread her packet between us.
"Okay, tracking at two with some guy named Ash—"
"He's good."
She looked up. "You know him?"
Careful. "I've heard of him. Reputation."
"What kind?"
"The 'knows what he's doing' kind." I shoved food in my mouth to avoid elaborating.
She looked suspicious but moved on. "Fine. Tracking at two. Then tomorrow is arctic first aid with Mr. Boone—"
"Good morning, ladies."
I didn't need to turn around. The mate bond had already announced him — that hum under my skin I was learning to ignore.
"Cowboy." I kept my eyes on my tray. "Shouldn't you be eating with your friends?"
"I am." He dropped onto the bench across from me, smile too cheerful for noon. "Mind if I join you?"
"You already sat down."
"I like to ask anyway. Politeness."
Ivy was watching us like we were her favorite show.
"We were going over schedules," she said. "Figuring out afternoon sessions."
"Yeah?" James pulled out his packet. Pristine. Not a mark on it. "I haven't decided yet. What are you doing?"
"Tracking at two," Ivy said. "With Ash."
"Tracking." He nodded. "That sounds useful."
"It is useful," I said. "For people who need it."
"I need it. Montana boy, remember? Wide open spaces. Not much tracking required when you can see fifty miles in every direction." He smiled at me. "Seems like a good skill to learn."
He was going to sign up for tracking. And every other session I took. And there was nothing I could do about it.
"What about first aid?" Ivy asked. "Tomorrow morning?"
"Thinking about that one too."
"What a coincidence," I said.
"Isn't it?"
Ivy's grin widened. "Okay, this is adorable. Cowboy is absolutely smitten."
"I'm not—" James started.
"You are. It's all over your face." She stood with her tray. "I'm getting more dessert. James, just admit you're signing up for whatever she signs up for. Save everyone time."
She left before either of us could respond.
James looked slightly embarrassed. "She's not wrong."
"I know."
"I'm still going to do it."
"I know that too."
He leaned forward. "Would it help if I promised not to be annoying?"
"You're already annoying."
"Fair." He tilted his head. "You're taking all of them, aren't you? Every survival session?"
"Most."
"Why?"
Because I'm climbing a mountain that kills people. Because there's someone waiting for me. Because I've spent seven years preparing and I'm not stopping now.
"I like being prepared," I said.
"For what?"
I held his gaze. "Something important."
He was quiet. Then: "Okay."
"Okay?"
"You don't have to explain. I'm not asking you to." He exhaled. "I just want to understand you. Even a little."
"Why?"
"Because you're the most interesting person I've ever met." He said it like it was obvious. "And whatever you're preparing for — it matters to you. Which means it matters."
I didn't know what to say.
So I stood, gathering my tray. "Tracking at two. Don't be late."
His smile could have lit the room. "I won't."
The hum under my skin did something traitorous.
The tracking module met in a clearing where the forest pressed close and the ground held prints.
Ash stood at the center, looking like himself — messy hair, easy grin, energy that made you think everything would work out. He caught my eye and gave me a tiny nod.
Don't blow my cover.
His grin widened.
"Alright, listen up." He clapped his hands. "Tracking isn't about following footprints. Any idiot can follow prints in fresh snow. Tracking is reading a story. What passed through? How long ago? Running or walking? Hunting or hunted?"
He crouched by a disturbance in the leaves. "See this? Something moved through recently. Look at depth, spacing, direction of scatter."
The group leaned in. James had materialized at my shoulder. I stepped sideways.
"Today we practice with trails I've laid," Ash continued. "Tomorrow, animal tracking. By week's end, you should follow a cold trail for a mile."
A mile. I'd need to track across glaciers where wind erased signs in minutes.
But a mile was a start.
"Partner up," Ash said. "Two per trail."
Ivy grabbed my arm. "Partners."
"Obviously."
"Good, because Cowboy was about to ask."
I glanced back. James had paired with Charlie. He caught my eye and shrugged. Next time.
We worked until the light failed, following trails through underbrush and across clearings. I was good at it. Seven years of practice clicking into place.
"You've done this before," Ash said quietly, falling into step beside me as the group headed back.
"Some."
"Some." He snorted. "Rae said you'd been practicing. Didn't mention you'd gotten this good. She worries about you."
"Rae worries too much."
"She worries the right amount." He was quiet for a beat. "We all do."
I didn't answer. There wasn't anything to say that we hadn't already said a hundred times.
"Just be careful." He glanced at me sideways. "That's all."
"Always am."
"Liar." But he said it fondly, the way family does.
He jogged ahead to catch up with the group, leaving me with the fading light and the feeling of being watched.
James caught my eye across the clearing. Smiled.
I looked away first.