Read The Frost Child for Free Online

as it drove sleet and snow horizontally across the town. Blindly she made her way upriver, using the water underfoot as her guide. Soon she was soaked to her hips. There was some shelter from the wind in the trees and bushes along the river, but there was no hiding from the terrible cold that tore at her exposed flesh. She rubbed at her nose and cheeks.
You can’t get frostbite that quickly
, she thought, but still she rubbed at the exposed parts.
    Through eyes narrowed against the cutting sleet she could see that the water at the edge of the river was starting to freeze, and the water that flowed around her knees was a milky color, as though just about to turn to ice.
    But it wasn’t the air searing her lungs that caused the sudden pang of fear, or the weariness in her limbs as the cold sapped her strength. It was what she could hear, carried on the storm, faint and far away, yet still terrifying. Voices crying out without words. Voices that she had heard before. Harsh voices. Cati tried to run, but she had been frozen by the Harsh before, and their cries drained her of energy and hope. Grimly she put her head down and battled upstream. The snow and sleet whirled around her, so she could only see for a few feet, but shecould feel the Workhouse nearby. Its old stones called to her. She stumbled and found herself in the center of the river, the icy torrent up to her waist now. The water threatened to sweep her downstream. Her feet were too numb to gain any purchase on the slippery rocks. Frantically she looked up and saw that she was just under the tree trunk that served as a bridge. But her hands wouldn’t reach. Three times she tried, and three times she failed. Fatigue had her in its grip now. She could close her eyes, she thought, and let the river carry her away, floating gently downstream …
    “Quick!” a voice snapped from above. “Grab my hand!”
    Without opening her eyes, she responded. A strong hand gripped hers.
    “Help me,” Owen panted. “I can’t lift you on my own!”
    With one final effort, Cati grasped the stub of a branch with her free hand and heaved herself upward. Between them they managed to get Cati onto the log. She lay there panting.
    “What happened?” Owen shouted above the noise of the storm. “Where did this come from?”
    “I heard voices,” Cati said, her voice weak. “I heard voices in the storm.”
    “What voices?”
    “The Harsh …” Her voice was shaking. “A long way away. But they sent the storm, Owen. They’re be hind this.”
    He knew that she was right. The storm was unnatural. He touched her cheek. Her skin was icy—frozen not just from without by the storm, but also from inside. Once you had been frozen by the Harsh, a sliver of ice always remained within.
    “Come on,” he said, “we need to get you warm.”
    It was easier to go along the riverbank and use the cover of the trees, but still it was half an hour before they reached the Den. As Cati pulled off her wet clothes and climbed into the sleeping bag, Owen lit the Primus and put water on to boil. The little stove helped to warm the Den as Owen lit candles. Snow had gathered on the sheet of perspex in the ceiling, blocking out the light.
    Owen made soup from a packet and gave a mug to Cati. She gulped down the hot liquid gratefully.
    “In a minute,” she said, “I might be able to feel my toes.”
    Owen went to the entrance and looked out. Even in the most sheltered part of the riverbank, the wind howled like a demented thing, and snow had started to pile against the wall of the Den.
    “We’re not going anywhere for a while,” Owen said.
    “I felt them,” Cati said.
    “What?”
    “The Harsh. Like the time they caught us on the riverbank. The way the cold gets inside you.”
    “You said they were far away?”
    “That’s what it seemed like.”
    “Then maybe it is just a storm. The weather’s been strange since last year.”
    “I heard them!” She stared at Owen.
    “Sorry. Every time I