A droplet landed on Maxwell’s nose. He looked up at the darkening clouds. “Uhh, its gonna rain. “

He ran through the streets, holding up a hand to obscure the heavy downfall from his eyes.

It was the worst part of living in the streets. He never knew how worrying and stressful it would be to not even know where your next meal is coming from. To not know if you’ll find a place to sleep. What if he got sick? What if he ran into someone he couldn’t win against? The toll on his body couldn’t be ignored either. If I stay much longer like this my body will completely deteriorate, and it’ll be something that I can’t come back from.

The rain kept on pouring down and he was running out of options. Even a ledge in a doorway if he couldn’t find a bridge would do. He’d seen enough survival tv-shows to know that underestimating nature and the importance of finding a shelter are not to be taken lightly.

There were none in sight. He seemed to be in some sort of residential area. There weren’t any noticeable shops around either. Perhaps they had all simply closed since it was rather late after all.

He spotted a porch. It was empty and had a roof to keep out the rain. It would have to do. I hope nobodies at home, he prayed while scampering onto the wooden floor. It creaked slightly under his weight but the pitter-patter of rain covered it well.

There next to a simple chair that stood there he pressed his back against the wall and faced outwards. He sniffled in the cold. Fingers rubbed along his arms in an attempt to heat up even if only a bit. Unfortunately he’d been trying to do that for the past couple of days to no avail. He caught his breath. He materialised an icecube in his hands. He crushed the smooth stone. It turned to snow in his hand, spilling through his fingers. He repeated the action again and again. He frowned. This isn’t fast enough, I need to be able to materialise it with not only more force but be able to use it consistently. This’ll also help me increase my ice output. When reflecting over the fight with the dogs it was clear to him that he was severely lacking in the skill to fight. Everything happens so quickly he wouldn’t be able to think about his ability, maybe with time as he got more used to it both those areas would improve.

An icy layer covered his hand. It condensed sliding down his hand and forming clunky chunks on his fingertips. He closed his hand, connecting the sharp points. The intense pressure crumbled the tips into blunt points. He reformed them again while constantly pressing them together. They’re too brittle. Is there a solution or is ice simply not a good material for this? It had held him back before when fighting Sveno.

Even though he had channeled so much magic to create them it had still broken. It wasn’t the reason why he lost. To be honest the way things had gone he wasn’t sure what it would take to beat him. He had thrown everything at him even using pykrete to counteract the brittleness of ice but he wasn’t able to overcome the difference in skill between them. That final fiery attack against the black knight was also beyond anything he faced. Would he have been able to survive an attack like that, would it have melted through the pykrete.

He studied the claws. Temperature,structure, density; perhaps there are other ways for me to make more durable constructs. Ice doesn’t have a set temperature, as long as it's below freezing ice will remain. Sword blades are sometimes made using metals of different properties. A harder, more brittle one for the surface and a more flexible metal for the spine to absorb impact. He closed his eyes for a second. Once opened he squeezed the blade points together. They shuddered and toiled. They snapped bringing his fingers together. A failure it seems. I guess I’ll have to keep on working on that. Fatigueness washed over him

There in the cold, shielded slightly from the downpour he dozed off with the harsh patter of rain against wood.

He awoke to the sound of laughter. He opened his eyes slowly. The muffled sounds came from the wall behind him. He didn’t panic, it was still raining and it was late. They had no reason to go out and see him. He still had time. A slight warmth from the wall soaked into his body. Pearls of laughter echoed out. Sounds of commotion as well. Is it a family? He lazily wondered. They seemed to be having fun. Cutlery scraped against porcelain dishes and glasses clinked. His stomach let out a low gurgle. It only lasted for a second before quieting.

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Maxwell’s head snapped to the door. It creaked open slightly. He froze. What do I do? Can he talk his way out of it? Out of the small crack slipped out a black cat. Its fur like obsidian, its paws white as snow. Its eyes large and black. Maxwell breathed a sigh of relief. He motioned at it despite his better judgement. Its head and ears perked up at the sight of him. It soundlessly walked toward him. He got up on his knees. It meowed and he petted its soft fur. He smiled. So soft! He looked back at the door only to see a face staring at him. It was the face of a child. No older than 5. The green eyes stared at Maxwell. Maxwell put a finger to his lips. Please don’t make a noise, he silently begged. The kid cautiously waddled outward. Maxwell moved his arms from around the cat. It stared up at him. The kid tried to take it but it protested with soft meows. Maxwell gently lifted the cat and placed it in the kids arms.

The kid walked off back inside, the door closing behind it. He gave a sigh of relief. That could have gone a lot worse. He swallowed painfully. The future seemed so bleak.

The door barged open slamming into the wall. He jumped to his feet. A man stood there. He was burly and bearded his green eyes fixated on Maxwell. He had a furious look.

“What are you doing here!” shouted the man angrily. His eyes glared menacingly. His hands were clenched into large fists. Adults were so much larger than he was.

Maxwell held his hands out in front of him. “Just looking for shelter, I wasn’t doing anything!” he said.

The man reached into his pocket. Maxwell’s eyes tracked the man’s hand. He withdrew a set of spiked brass knuckles. His eyes widened.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” The man charged forward swinging at him. Maxwell stepped backward hitting the post.

“Wait, I’ll go, I’ll go,” he shouted “The man didn’t even hear him out. His fist slammed into the space Maxwell’s head had been a moment prior.

“That could have killed me!” burst out Maxwell.

“Then good riddance!” said the man throwing another blow. Maxwell’s eyes widened, an opportunity revealed itself amongst the chaos.

His brass fist drilled into Maxwell’s chest. Focus Maxwell! The blow sent him tumbling over the banister. It knocked the breath from his lungs. He landed on his feet before pelting away from the crazy man. His feet splashing in the pooling rain.. He didn’t look back once to see if the man was chasing him.

He stopped eventually of course. Heaving and gasping, bending over with his hands against his knees. “I thought…I was going… to die,” he gasped between breaths. He felt his chest. The icy layer covering it was cracked but intact. I’m glad my reflexes were fast enough to put up some protection. He’d never been able to do it that fast before. Then again his survival had depended on it. What was that man even thinking! he scowled. A part of him was angry. Angry at the man’s complete and utter unwillingness to hear him out. He was in the wrong and he was trespassing but he had no choice. He had to trespass. “A little compassion goes a long way goddammit.” He walked again in the rain.

Did the kid bring the father? I thought he was on my side. He was… hurt. He wasn’t some pest or dangerous animal, yet why was he being treated like one? Being treated like trash day in and day out was something he was beginning to lose patience for. His vision blurred but he blinked it back. A raindrop clinked to the paved ground; frozen solid. Pearls of heaven solidified bouncing against his skin before spilling to the ground. The crystals cried out as they smashed and piled up on the hard ground. I’m not that worthless…right?

A piercing scream rang through the night. Angry voices. Is it the man from before, it couldn’t be, that was going too far even for a man as unreasonable as that. THe voices were getting nearer. He took cover trying to get as far away as possible from it.

“Hey kid, over here.” He scurried to the voice. It came from a small alleyway half obscured by a jutting out section of a building. He wouldn’t have noticed it aside from the voice. He crouched down beside it. The voices came closer before becoming faint at last.

“Thanks man, “said Maxwell, turning toward the man. He turned to face him. He recoiled. “What the hell!” he hadn’t gotten a good look at the man before. “Why do you look like that!”

“If you raise your voice they’ll come back to find you,” said the person smiling. That’s not quite right though. A large red smile was painted on the man’s face. They scratched at their neck under the collar of the faded multi-colored clothes.

“Why are you a clown!”