“See anything?” Qingxi asked.

She peered over Soleiman’s shoulder, squinting her eyes at the vast, ice-covered landscape of the frozen lake.

“...No,” Soleiman responded, scanning the flat ice that extended several kilometres into the distance through his eyepiece.

The day had been kind to them. Having gone through a relatively rough patch alongside the Yusheed whilst trying to prepare Yellow Rock for occupation, the three of them had been hoping for some reprieve from the blizzards, and the patrols, and the occasional beast encounters.

Today was exactly that. The sky was bright, and the white clouds that blanketed the equally white snowscape shone with a radiance that while bright, was not particularly intense. The wind was still and the air was clear, and their vision– now unimpeded– stretched all the way to the distant horizons.

Rumi swallowed audibly, forcing a chunk of sourdough down her throat.

“How much further do we have to go?” She took another bite of the loaf, revealing a thin strip of paste made from dried lemons and oranges she had specially injected into the bread.

“Two more, I think,” Soleiman stowed his eyepiece onto his belt. He adjusted the bag on his shoulders, adding, “But with this kind of visibility, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that there aren’t going to be any wrecks at all.”

“We should check, anyway,” Qingxi stepped backwards, motioning with her hand to gesture them along.

“Of course,” Soleiman nodded.

They continued their trek atop the small hilly ridge that overlooked the sunken mass of ice directly to their east, each step they made crunching the soft, powdery snow beneath their boots.

They walked side-by-side, Rumi happily chowing down on her self-modified sourdough, the tails of Qingxi’s chullo that she continued to wear swinging about as her chin moved up and down with each bite.

Of course, Qingxi didn’t mind. Though the handmade woollen craft had been specially made by her mother– the Chitite ear-like appendages it had tailored to fit Qingxi’s ears perfectly–, she felt that her mother would rather it go to someone who genuinely needed it.

The environmental mana had been roughly stable and present, anyway– so her wind shield kept her mostly unbothered by the cold.

She also didn’t mind the fact that Soleiman had her scarf wrapped about his neck. He had left his with Pallas back in the infirmary, in case she ever felt like having a walk outside, so Qingxi lent him hers to protect himself from the cold.

She peered over to look at the both of them, Rumi staring her bread down while Soleiman looked over the frozen wastes wistfully– his face comfortably nuzzled into her scarf.

Qingxi smiled.

At least they were happy.

As they walked, they reached a particularly deep spot in the snow, and eventually they found themselves having to painstakingly tread through powder that reached all the way up to their thighs.

Soleiman and Qingxi were generally fine, but Rumi– a wee bit shorter than the two– began to grow wearing of having to march her way across the landscape.

It didn’t really help that she had dropped the remaining half of her sourdough through its wrapping, and despite her insistence that it would be alright picking it off of the trodden snow, Soleiman refused to let her do so.

He offered his sourdough to her, which she’d also injected with that special citrus paste, though she declined the offer. It just didn’t feel right to take food from someone.

Eventually, after a good fifteen minutes or so of helping Rumi through the increasingly deep snow, the three of them arrived at the approximate point of their second-to-last scouting spot.

“Anything now?” Rumi panted, almost up to the hip with snow.

“I…” Soleiman panned, turning his entire upper body left and right as his vision scoured the flat horizon.

Rumi squinted her eyes, nothing but white and light blue spilt by the thin, distant strip of dark blues of the stormy horizon filling her vision. There was not a speck of colour, not a single indicator that even a single wreck sat upon the frozen lake.

“...No,” he put the eyepiece down.

Rumi whimpered slightly, her head dropping as she took a good look at the deep snow ahead.

“Dang,” she sighed.

“I can carry your bag for you if you want,” Soleiman offered, reaching his hand out.

“No, it’s not the bag,” she said, putting a hand up. “I just think my legs are starting to cramp up.”

“Ah,” Soleiman put a hand on his head. “We could take a break-”

“They wouldn’t mind,” Qingxi said, staring out over the lake.

“Huh?” the two of them responded.

“We’ve checked nine out of ten points already,” she said. “And I’m sure they’d make an exception for today’s weather.”

They blinked silently at her.

“I… was also starting to get tired of walking.”

Rumi turned to look at Soleiman.

“Well,” he said, straightening his posture. “Time to go fishing, then?”

“You have the attachments right, Soleiman?” Qingxi stopped, standing at the very edge of the snow-ice barrier. Even though not visibly icy, the powder had shrunk to such a thin layer that she ran the risk of slipping just by standing there.

“Yeah,” Soleiman dug through his bag, Rumi helping him hold it open. He eventually fished the six grates from within, each one made from two interlocking grills that ran in opposite directions.

He handed the girls theirs, before taking his own out and spinning his bag back into place.

Looking more closely, each attachment very closely resembled a lattice, the two sets of perpendicular knife-like blades each attaching independently to the sole of their boots.

Rumi tried slipping them on while standing on one foot, though Qingxi very quickly stopped her before she hurt herself. So they sat on the snow, their pants resisting the wet cold of the compressed powder as Qingxi helped them put their attachments on.

Soleiman did manage to get one attached on his own, though he gave up trying to use what limited dexterity he had in his entirely wind-supported right arm to slip on the second one.

Once Soleiman and Rumi were done, though, they made their way out onto the ice, holding onto each other as they gingerly got themselves accustomed to the sensation.

“Oooh,” Rumi clung onto Soleiman’s arm, leaning into him so excessively she was actively making the both of them more unstable.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he responded, standing as still as he possibly could. Sure, maybe they weren’t going anywhere, but at least they weren’t sprawled out on the ice. “See? This isn’t so bad.”

Behind them, Qingxi fiddled with her attachments. She pulled the two sets of grills apart on one of the attachments, deciding to affix only the ones that ran parallel to her feet onto her boots.

“Qingxi, you okay?” Soleiman looked over his shoulder, Rumi just barely managing to peek at her– almost dislocating his arm when she suddenly felt her balance shift.

“Yeah,” she responded, affixing the second of the attachments on. “I just want to try something.”

“Evenly, Rumi, evenly,” Soleiman whispered, prompting Rumi to try and balance her weight more organically. “Try what?”

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Qingxi slipped the remaining halves of the attachments into her bag, lifting herself to her feet as she set her skates onto the ice. Without the blades that ran perpendicular to the direction of her feet in place, there would be no resistance to her gliding across the lake.

And so, she did. Slowly at first, using her wind to gently propel her forwards.

“What!” Rumi exclaimed, turning on the spot out of a fear that moving her feet would cause her to fall over.

“...Skates!” Qingxi responded, sliding in place.

The two of them stared blankly at her as she slowly glided atop the ice whilst awkwardly trying to figure out how to turn.

“I’ve always wanted to try this out. I never got a chance, though, because I lived in the south,,” she said.

Her entire lower body almost frozen in place as she slid about.

“Come on, the fish are this way!”

Thus, they made their way further out onto the frozen lake, hoping to find a point in the ice thin enough that they could drill a hole through.

Rumi and Soleiman slowly grew comfortable walking on their own, the sensation of having to walk on literal knives that cut into the ice becoming less and less off-putting the further they went. What didn’t quite become any less unusual was seeing Qingxi skate around the two of them, her movements growing more confident and the smile in her eyes growing with each stride she took.

They even caught the occasional glimpse of her grinning cheeks, whenever the loose bandages about her mouth and nose fluttered enough in the wind.

“I kind of want to try that,” Rumi whispered.

“You sure?” Soleiman responded, taking his eyepiece away from his eye. “I mean…”

“I know, but…” Rumi put her arms behind her back, wiggling her body about as she averted her gaze from his eyes. “It looks fun.”

He couldn’t say no to those eyes.

“Qingxi, hold on!” He and Rumi sat themselves down on the ice, the two of them working together to get the grills running perpendicular to her feet off.

“You want to try skating too?” Qingxi asked, gliding to stop beside them.

“Mhm!” Rumi nodded, Soleiman pulling the first of the grills off of her left boot.

Qingxi opened her mouth as if to say something, though she stopped– instead slowly getting to her knees to help them get the perpendicular grill off of her right boot.

“Alright,” she said.

Soleiman trundled along on his own, having declined Rumi’s offer to join her and Qingxi skating on the ice. He wasn’t too fond of the prospect, and he didn’t want to run the risk of falling on his dead arm and accidentally snapping it clean off.

Besides, watching the two girls play on their as they whirled about him was fulfilling enough.

Rumi had gotten the swing of things surprisingly quickly, learning to stop, start and change directions all while relying entirely on her legs to move around. She fell quite a handful of times, of course, though Qingxi caught her most of the time. The times she did hit the ice, though, she decided to not let get to her.

And there she was, skating so elegantly and swaying upon the ice with all the confidence in the world. The two long, rectangular buns that almost resembled the drooping ears of a rabbit that were tied at the back of her head even bounced with each stride she took, playfully swaying with the tails of her chullo.

Soleiman sighed, looking down at the ice beneath his feet.

Two years. They could do it-

Were those bubbles?

He stopped, squatting down to get a better look at the columns of frozen bubbles suspended in the ice beneath his feet.

And his eyes glimmered.

“Qingxi, Rumi, wait!”

“What happened?” Rumi asked, almost immediately sliding to stop beside him.

“Look at these bubbles,” he said, Qingxi sliding in to see what they were looking at. “Qingxi, could you hand me your fishing spear?”

He fiddled with his bag slightly, drawing a flint and steel out and holding it in his hand as he took Qingxi’s spear in his other.

“Okay, so I’ve heard about this in books,” he said, barely able to contain the excitement in his voice. “But apparently, when you break open these bubbles, they release air that you can set on fire.”

“What?” Qingxi furrowed her brows.

“Yeah! And apparently the Sahlbarid used to do this whenever they were stranded in a snowstorm and needed to warm up,” he said, standing up again as he handed the flint and steel to Qingxi. “I mean, I don’t know how true that is, but I’ve always wanted to see this for myself!”

“So if you break the ice, Qingxi can set it on fire with the flint and steel?” Rumi asked.

“Mhm!” he responded, placing the speartip atop the ice just above the bubble column. “Just strike it when I say so, okay?”

“Alright,” she said, tilting her head as Soleiman began poking the spear into the ice, both he and Rumi eagerly bent over it.

“Shouldn’t we… move a little further away, though?” she asked. “Since it’s flammable.”

The two of them froze.

“You’re right,” Soleiman said, him and Rumi backing away.

Qingxi laughed softly, putting a hand on her forehead.

“Thank goodness for you, Qingxi,” Rumi said, smiling.

They got on with the experiment, Rumi and Qingxi watching keenly from a safe distance as Soleiman dug the spear deeper and deeper into the ice. Eventually, he decided to just thrust the thing into the ice, finally managing to tear through the frozen layer.

“Oh! Okay, now! Qingxi!”

He stumbled backwards as Qingxi struck the flint and steel, sending the glowing sparks flying towards the general direction of the hole.

And… nothing happened.

“Again-”

This time, the sparks set ablaze the column of invisible methane gas, very quickly climbing up it and billowing into a mushroom cloud of fire that ballooned out at eye level.

The sudden rush of intense– perhaps too much so– warmth shocked all three of them, Rumi almost falling onto her bum in her surprise.

“What!” Rumi exclaimed, scrambling to get back to her feet.

The two of them looked at her.

“Don’t wait, do it again!”

The plume of fire erupted from the hole in the ice again, this time enduring for slightly longer before petering out.

“It’s real…” Qingxi mouthed.

“It’s real!” Soleiman repeated.

They lit it a third time, the fire dancing in place and sending plumes of orange billowing into the air as it fluttered about.

“That’s so cool,” Rumi said thoughtlessly, her golden irises periodically lit by the amber light of the methane flames as Qingxi lit them. “How does that even happen?”

Soleiman shrugged.

“I think the book said something about the air trapped inside the bubbles,” he said. “But I don’t remember exactly what.”

“Either way,” Qingxi struck the flint and steel again, igniting another quick burst of fire. “This is so cool.”

Mm,” Soleiman hummed, recalling that he wasn’t the only one to have read that book

”We should come back here with Pallas,” he said. “We can’t let her miss out on this.”

Some time later, they got back to walking. Admittedly, it felt a little strange leaving a hole in the ice where flammable air spewed forth from unsealed, but considering that it would’ve been released into the atmosphere when summer came anyway, they didn’t think too much of it.

They managed to find a spot in the ice that looked thin enough, and so they put on their attachments properly as they got ready to begin fishing.

Soleiman and Rumi sawed the hole while Qingxi kept watch for any beasts, returning to help them when they needed to pull out the brick of ice they had cut out.

Then, with all that settled, they could get to fishing.

Admittedly, they had spent a little longer than expected walking out to their spot– not helped by the fact that they spent half of the time getting there playing around with their skates or setting fire to methane bubbles–, so they’d have to spend a little less time than they would’ve liked fishing.

It was fine, though. Whatever they caught was entirely supplementary, and their rations back at Yellow Rock had already been measured out by the Yusheed.

Really, the only reason they had planned on fishing at all was because Rumi was craving some fish.

“Alright,” Soleiman said, affixing the first of the bait to their singular fishing rod. “Here, Rumi. You fish, and I’ll try to snag whatever you catch.”

“Okay…” Rumi said, trying to figure out how she’d hold and reel the rod with fingers on only one hand.

“Here,” Soleiman helped her cast the bait, and the two of them watched as it sank into the depths far beneath the ice. “Now… we wait-”

The rod jerked, and Rumi almost let go of it entirely.

“Oh, shit! Hold on, Rumi!” Soleiman yelled, getting to his knees as he shuffled towards the hole.

“I… I can’t!”

She had stuck the rod in between her thighs, though evidently even that wasn’t enough to free her hand up to allow her to reel the catch in.

“Crap… Qingxi!” He moved over to Rumi, dropping the snagharpoon and helping her hold the rod in place so that she could get her hand on the reel.

“Got it!”

The three of them fell into position, Rumi and Soleiman working together to reel in the catch as Qingxi tried blowing a few bubbles into the water to help drag the fish along.

Eventually, its shimmering silver scales hit the light of the sky, and in that instant Qingxi stabbed the snagharpoon straight through its lustrous form.

All ten centimetres, of its lustrous form.

Rumi breathed in through her teeth.

“We might be here for a while,” Qingxi said, bringing the tip of the snagharpoon closer to her eyes to inspect the minnow.

“I’m… sure it’ll be fine,” Soleiman said. “We can take our time.”

“What about you?” Rumi asked. “It took us two hours to walk all the way here…”

“I could…” Soleiman mused, waving his hands about. “Skate.”

Qingxi closed her eyes as she smiled into her bandages, and Rumi beamed all her joy directly into his face– tossing the rod aside to hug him.