The Frozen Menace

by Ursula Vernon

  He ran toward the entry to the stone bowl. The worm that had been blocking the way moved in a hurry when it felt fire come toward it. All Danny saw was the worm’s retreating back.

  He fell to his knees and tried to eat snow to douse the fire. Unfortunately it melted before he could get the snow to his mouth.

  Behind him, he heard “There they are!” and “Mama!”

  Danny took a deep, deep breath through his nose, gulped—

  —held it—

  —and let out a belch so loud that it echoed over the snow like the roar of an iceworm.

  The fire petered out.

  “Eww,” said Christiana behind him. “Excuse you.”

  Danny exhaled. It smelled like smoke, but it wasn’t burning. His stomach felt much better.

  “Fire’s back,” he said, and grinned.

  The phoenix landed in the stone bowl, beating her wings until the surface of the water rippled with steam.

  “Judging by the worm tracks outside, you’ve had some excitement,” she said. “Is Herbert okay?”

  “Mama,” said Herbert cheerfully, leaning on Wendell. The phoenix sighed.

  “Did you know that they communicate with each other?” demanded Christiana. “Their heads glowed and then they started working together!”

  The phoenix stared at her. “Really,” she said finally. “That’s . . . unsettling.”

  “You’re telling us!”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for that. Maybe the iceworms are evolving. Maybe this isn’t the best place for a nest site.” The phoenix sighed. “And I still don’t know what we’re going to do about my chick.”

  “Maybe I could come see him after school . . .” said Wendell. The steam was fogging up his glasses, so he took them off to wipe them on his shirt.

  Herbert let out a worried chirp. “Mama?”

  “Eh?” said Wendell. “I’m right here . . .”

  “Mama!” said Herbert, sounding agitated. The chick looked around.

  Wendell put his glasses back on. Herbert let out a chirp of relief and wrapped his wings around Wendell’s leg.

  A memory teased at Danny. He’d barely been listening, he’d been so worried about not breathing fire, but he’d heard it anyway. Wendell had been looking for his glasses, and Herbert had been freaking out. At the time, he’d thought that it was fear of the worms, but . . .

  “Wendell,” he said, “take your glasses off for a minute, will you?”

  “Okay . . .” said Wendell.

  Christiana had the same thought at the same moment Danny did. She wheeled around and looked at the phoenix. “How good is your eyesight when you’re a chick?”

  The phoenix blinked. “Uh . . . not great . . . ? I mean, you don’t have anything much to compare it to, but it gets better as we get older.”

  Danny took Wendell’s glasses and put them on his nose. Herbert let out of a chirp of delight and waddled toward him.

  “Mama!”

  “He’s not imprinted on you!” said Danny, delighted. The phoenix chick was extremely warm. It was like being hugged by a space heater. He took the glasses off and was relieved when Herbert let go of his leg. “He’s not imprinted on you, Wendell, he’s imprinted on your glasses!”

  Wendell gulped.

  “My mom is gonna kill me . . .” he said sadly. He took the glasses back and put them on his nose. Herbert gazed up at him adoringly.

  “You be a good phoenix, Herbert,” said the iguana. “You get big and strong and burny and be the best phoenix ever.”

  He scratched the chick behind the ruff and Herbert crooned happily.

  Then he took off his glasses and handed them to Danny. Danny waded up to the phoenix and set them, very carefully, on the end of the giant bird’s beak.

  Herbert looked around, puzzled, then saw the phoenix. “Mama!” he chirped happily.

  “I can’t see a thing through these,” grumbled the phoenix. “But if this is what we have to do . . .”

  She extended a wing over her chick and he snuggled happily against her side.

  After a minute she said, “You know, he does kind of look like a Herbert.”

  “I’m not crying,” said Wendell as the trio walked across the snowfield. “I’m not.”

  “I never said you were,” said Danny.

  “Somebody’s probably just cutting onions,” said Christiana. “In . . . err . . . the Farthest North. Invisibly.”

  “That’s probably it. Stupid invisible onions.” Wendell wiped his eyes.

  The trip back didn’t seem to take as long, possibly because Danny was able to breathe fire. When patches of ice threatened, he exhaled on them and melted them away into nothingness.

  On the downside, Wendell couldn’t see, and so was holding on to Christiana’s arm the entire way.

  The iceworms had left great gouges and troughs and wallows in the surface of the snow. It no longer looked like the pristine white blanket that it had been before.

  “Sort of looks like people have been driving on it,” said Danny. “Only with, y’know, giant cars.”

  “Giant wiggly cars,” said Christiana, leading Wendell through a long worm-shaped ravine in the snow.

  “I wonder about the communicating, and the glowing,” said the iguana, peering about nearsightedly. “How smart do you think they are?”

  “I’m more worried that we’ll have a snow day and they’ll come rampaging out of the Farthest North,” said Danny. “I mean, we’d get out of school, but . . .”

  “I don’t think we need to worry too much about monsters that can be defeated by lukewarm water,” said Christiana.

  But they were all glad to leave the iceworm preserve behind.

  The bottomless chasm on the way back had been worrying Danny, but it proved easy. He just took a deep breath and breathed fire on it.

  The snow boiled away into steam, revealing a long span of stone. Danny tested his footing and grinned.

  “Bone dry,” he said.

  He went first, melting the snow in front of them. By the end, his throat was starting to get a little dry, but that was all.

  When the wind pushed at them, all they had to do was set their feet and it howled harmlessly past.

  “You’re better than de-icer,” said Christiana. “Don’t worry, Wendell, it’s like a sidewalk. Just follow me.”

  On the far side they paused. Christiana carefully hooked the sign back up on the rope. “Just in case somebody decides they want to go fishing,” she said.

  Their footprints had left a clear trail to follow back to the portal. Danny felt his internal fires burning brightly—more brightly than he could ever remember. His chest felt delightfully warm.

  “I don’t know how you’d tell,” said Christiana. “We’re standing in a giant walk-in freezer right now.”

  “I’ll try when we get back to Great-Granddad’s house,” said Danny. He could feel things shifting around inside his chest. The fire felt hot and . . . there, somehow, like it never had before.

  His parents were going to be so excited when they found out he could breathe fire!

  He led the way across the snow.

  When they reached the top of the hill, they looked back across the snowfield. It was still blindingly white, but it seemed smaller now that they had walked across it. Twice.

  The portal hummed and swirled in the stone. Christiana put her hand through it and frowned.

  “Problem?” asked Danny.

  “Something . . . oh, for Pete’s sake.” She rolled her eyes. “Your granddad closed the refrigerator door.”

  She pulled her hand back out, holding a bottle of ketchup.

  Danny laughed. He reached through the portal and thumped on the inside of the fridge. After a minute, they could hear Great-Grandfather Dragonbreath yelling, “Hold your horses! I’m com
ing!”

  Danny walked to the edge of the ledge and gazed out. The stars glittered like tiny points of fire against the ice.

  The Farthest North was awfully pretty. And if you were a dragon and could breathe fire, it wasn’t a bad place at all.

  “Maybe we can come back someday and see how Herbert’s doing,” said Wendell.

  “If we do, I’m packing a sweater,” said Christiana.

  “Think of the adventures we can have now that I can breathe fire!” said Danny.

  “Oh goodie. I always wanted to see the inside of a burn ward . . .” muttered Wendell.

  The portal creaked. “You there, Wanda? Did you get my grandson patched up, or is he a dragon-sicle?”

  “He’s fine, sir!” called Wendell.

  “Let’s go,” said Christiana. “I’m starting to get cold.”

  “And I have to go find my old pair of glasses,” said Wendell.

  Danny nodded.

  He was the last one through the portal, and he couldn’t resist taking one last look over his shoulder.

  The sky was black and the snow was white. For just a moment, Danny thought he saw a streak of light that might have been the aurora, or the tail of the phoenix flying across the horizon.

  It had been a grand adventure. And Danny had no doubts that he’d have many more. But the nice thing about adventures was going home afterward.

  He breathed a little fire—just a little, enough to crackle through the air—and turned and went through the portal, going home.

  is the award-winning creator of the Dragonbreath and Hamster Princess series, as well as Castle Hangnail. She lives, draws, and stays warm in Pittsboro, North Carolina.

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