“What’s wrong?” she called. Because something had to be wrong for him to sound like that.
“Sven.” Kristoff’s eyes and hair were wild. “He fell asleep. He won’t wake up.”
Anna ran out from behind the counter, aware of Elsa following close behind. Sure enough, Sven’s eyes were shut and his sides heaved with ragged, labored breath.
Kristoff rubbed Sven’s cheek with the back of his hand.
What to do, what to do, what to do!
But there was nothing Anna could do, except…“Elsa!” She whirled around to see her sister. “We have to meet this Sorenson person—he may be Sven’s only chance!”
“But—”
“We can ask him about, you know.” Anna bumped a little against the word spell, not wanting to admit to everyone just yet who exactly was responsible for the wolf. “And we can see if he knows how to cure the Blight!”
At least the Blight wasn’t her fault. It had happened before Anna had said her spell, but still…it was rather curious that both the Blight and wolf shared similar symptoms: a strange kind of sleep and color-changing eyes. Anna felt like she was looking at a puzzle with a shifting picture. They could be related, but Anna wasn’t sure how.
“Oaken, where exactly in the mountain does Sorenson live?” Elsa asked as Anna hurried back over to the counter.
Oaken pulled out a map and spread it smooth in front of the register, then traced a path east, to Miner’s Mountain. He tapped his finger at the base of the mountain. “Follow the Roaring River past the Black Mountains until you see the signs for the abandoned mines. Beware. They’re dangerous.”
Kristoff leaned forward to get a closer look. “Dangerous how?”
“They’re known for awful cave-ins and terrible landslides,” Oaken said.
“And the Huldrefólk who live in the heart of the mountain,” Tuva added. “They’re tricky. Sometimes, they help. Other times, they lure humans off the safest paths.”
Wael rolled his eyes. “The Huldrefólk aren’t real, you know. They’re just bedtime stories, an excuse for people who can’t follow directions and a scapegoat for when things go missing.”
“The Huldrefólk are dangerous,” Tuva continued, ignoring Wael. “You know the stories. They like to hide in the shadows. They’re thieves—they steal things.” The blacksmith dragged her eyes back to Elsa. “I think it would be wiser if you fled, Your Majesty. Maybe another country will have the answer, and they can bring help.”
Anna was too stunned to speak. She couldn’t believe Tuva was suggesting they leave their home when it needed them most. And from the look on Elsa’s face, she knew her sister felt the same way.
“Thank you for your advice.” Elsa stood up to pick up her cloak. “I appreciate it. But it’s my job to remain in Arendelle with everybody, and to find a solution, Huldrefólk or no. I’ll leave now.”
Anna shot up. “Don’t you mean we’ll leave now?”
With a flourish, Elsa swirled her cloak onto her shoulders. “No, Anna. You heard them. It’s too dangerous. I think it would be best if you all left on the royal ship, at least until things are back to normal. I can protect myself.”
Anna could hardly believe her ears. She couldn’t leave Arendelle in such a state of danger. “It’s not about protection,” she said, her thoughts flying fast, trying to come up with a winning argument that could convince Elsa. “It’s about…about…” She looked down at the mug in her hand. “It’s about keeping you awake!” she finished. “You need at least one person with you who can keep you awake—”
“And another who knows the way of the mountains,” Kristoff added. Anna noted with gratitude that he’d already shouldered his traveler’s pack and added a coil of rope to his belt, even though he did cast a worried look at his sleeping reindeer friend. Anna knew how it must feel to volunteer to be separated from a sick and sleeping Sven, but she also knew that it would be even harder for Kristoff to not at least try to help. It was the way she felt, too, and part of the reason why she loved him so much.
Olaf popped up from Sven’s blanket nest. “And a snowman who likes warm hugs!”
For a moment, Elsa stood still, as though she’d been carved from ice. Anna had already started planning how she would sneak away from the royal ship if her sister ordered her aboard, but finally, Elsa raised her hands in surrender. “All right. Anna and Kristoff will come with me. Oaken,” she said, turning to him, “would you please lead the others to the royal ship? Set sail south as fast as you can, and stay there until you hear word from me.”
“And if we don’t hear back?” Wael asked.
Anna stuck her chin up. “I promise you—you will.”
Oaken lifted a thick finger and pointed out the window. “Then I suggest you leave now. The morning is almost over, and you’ll want to reach Sorenson’s before nightfall. And remember: beware the Huldrefólk!”
As Elsa and Kristoff did a final check of their supplies, Anna fidgeted with the crumpled spell in her cloak pocket. It might have caused trouble, but it was something her mother had touched, and the thought comforted her. Fastening her cloak, Anna went over to Olaf, who was shoveling a few more carrots into his own traveler’s pack.
“I’m coming, too. I’m a snowman adventurer! A snoventurer!”
Anna smiled and placed a hand on Olaf’s back. At least bravery existed in her snow friend, even if it was lacking in others. “I know you are, but Olaf…I need to ask you to stay here.”
Olaf’s grin slid off his face. “You—you don’t want me to come?”
“I do,” Anna said, and it was the truth. Olaf might be silly, and he could occasionally lose his head, but he was wise in ways of the heart and he knew how to bring warmth to cold places. And Anna had a feeling that, soon, they would be in need of hugs more than ever. In fact, she could use one herself now. But the people standing before her could use him even more. She picked up his carrot nose and set it back in place. “Kristoff needs you here to keep an eye on Sven, and Elsa and I need you here to help the villagers stay awake as they carry Sven and head to the ship.” Anna ruffled his twiggy hair.
“Oh, I already have tons of ideas to keep them awake!” Olaf assured her, brightening. “The question is: How will I choose which idea?” He began to tick off his repertoire on his fingers. “I could sing soothing lullabies, do an interpretive dance of falling autumn leaves, recite the names of all the best beaches in the world in alphabetical order—”
“Remember,” Kristoff interrupted as he came over, his traveler’s pack heaped with the added supplies from Oaken, “you’re trying to stop them from sleeping. Not put them to sleep.”
Anna nudged Kristoff’s boot with her toe. “Hush,” she whispered.
“I’ll start a rousing game of charades. Or, no. What about jokes?” Olaf said. “Everybody loves jokes. They’ll be laughing too hard to sleep. Ahem.” He straightened his top coal button. “What do snowmen eat for lunch?”
“What?” Oaken asked.
“I’m not really sure. Snowmen really don’t eat anything, which is a bit perplexing. There was the time I tried eating fruitcake, but it kind of went right through me.”
Kristoff cocked an eyebrow while Anna giggled.
“Perfect. See, Olaf? You’ll be great!” Anna said. But as she followed Elsa and Kristoff to the door, the laughter within her faded. Dangerous things lurked outside these doors, and in the mountains. Dangerous things lurked within books, too. Dangerous power, it seemed, also lurked somewhere within Anna.
But here was her chance to fix things. Here was her chance to prove herself to Arendelle. To prove herself to Elsa. And if she didn’t, if she couldn’t, the nightmare would be complete.
The wolf would swallow the world, starting with everyone she loved.
THE SUN SHONE with intensity in the sky, a bright flat disk that sparked the colorful splendor of autumn leaves.
Usually, Anna loved nothing more than sunny fall days, those afternoons when the sky was as blue as could b
e and everything around her was golden. Usually. Today, though, the sun was too bright. It showed too many things: their footprints on the path, their shadows creeping across the ground, the bright gleam of Elsa’s hair. All were as visible as could possibly be. Beacons for the wolf that might as well have screamed DELICIOUS MEALS WENT THAT WAY.
Even though they had all guessed that the wolf would not move during the day, and that it was still trapped in the castle, there was no real way to be sure. So they stayed away from the cleared wagon path that followed the Roaring River, and instead stuck to the interior of the forest, picking their way over fallen logs and stumbling against rocks hidden by piles of leaves. Anna tripped more than a few times over wayward roots. Sneaking through the woods while imagining a wolf chasing her was all too familiar to Anna.
After a little while, an embarrassed Anna admitted to Kristoff what she had done. And instead of being upset at her, he hugged her. He understood that all she had wanted to do was help, and he was optimistic about their plan to save Sven.
“I don’t get it,” Anna said, trying to keep her voice quiet enough not to attract attention, but loud enough for Kristoff and Elsa to hear her over the crunching of leaves. “I have good dreams all the time. I’ve dreamed about flying, and living in a castle made of chocolate, and unicorn quests, and—”
“And me, obviously,” Kristoff suggested with a cheeky grin.
Anna nudged his arm. “Focus,” she said, trying to sound stern, though she knew her cheeks were turning pink.
“I’m just glad you didn’t dream of something really scary—like a land-walking shark,” he said.
Anna smiled. “Is that your most terrifying nightmare?”
“No.” Kristoff shook his head. “When I was little, I used to have nightmares about Bulda trying to spoon-feed me mushroom soup.”
Anna paused to unhook her cloak from a thorny bush. “That’s not scary at all.”
Kristoff adjusted his traveler’s pack. “Have you ever had a troll try to spoon-feed you?”
Anna giggled and turned to Elsa, trying to invite her to the conversation, but Elsa didn’t so much as crack a smile. She’d been practically silent since they’d left Oaken’s trading post, and Anna had the sinking suspicion her sister was upset with her.
“H-how about you, Elsa?” Anna tried to keep her tone light and airy. “What’s your worst nightmare?”
Elsa pushed back a branch. “I don’t have nightmares.”
From out of the corner of her eye, Anna saw Kristoff pick up the pace. He always liked to avoid spats whenever he could. And he, like Anna, could detect one brewing.
“Come on, Elsa.” Anna took a quick side step to avoid the branch whipping back toward her as Elsa released it. “Everyone has nightmares. I’m your sister. You can tell me. You all know my nightmare now—a massive, girl-stalking wolf.”
Elsa flung their mother’s scarf over her shoulder. “I don’t know what to tell you, Anna, except that I don’t have nightmares.”
Anna’s sinking suspicion was no longer sinking. It had hit rock bottom, and anchored in the pit of her stomach. Elsa was definitely upset with her, and the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that Anna didn’t blame her. Anna was a little furious at herself.
Snowflakes drifted in the shafts of sunlight that trickled down through the trees. Anna looked up. The sky remained as blue as ever, which meant there could only be one other source of snow.
“Elsa, why are you making flurries?” Anna held out a finger to capture a miniscule ice crystal. “We can’t have snow. We’ll leave footprints. More than the ones we’re already leaving in the mud.”
Elsa stopped and looked at her. “It’s not me.”
“Then what do you call this?” Anna held out her finger.
Elsa inspected the flake, and her pale cheeks grew even paler. “That’s not snow.”
“Anna! Elsa!” Kristoff yelled from ahead. He stood on top of a wooded knoll, looking down at something on the other side. “Come quick!”
They stopped caring who—or what—might hear them, and ran, coming to a halt beside Kristoff. Anna gasped. The forest ended on top of the knoll, and a red farmhouse sat before them, cradled by fields of wheat; wheat that was all white, translucent even, in the sun’s sharp light. As Anna looked, a breeze rippled through the field, dislodging the grains and sending up billows of what looked like ash.
The Blight was spreading.
“We can’t keep tiptoeing around,” Kristoff said, and Anna could tell he was thinking of Sven’s white coat that matched the terrible white powder. “All this darting and dodging is taking way too long. We have to move way faster!” He was right. But Anna didn’t know what to do.
Even from this distance, she could spot little white huddles among the fields. Cows that had fallen asleep. Horses that had dropped in their tracks. Any animal that could take them farther or faster had fallen sick. The only thing that looked normal in the bleached autumn landscape was the navy thread of the Roaring River that wound its way to the base of Miner’s Mountain in the distance.
“Can you freeze the river?” Anna asked Elsa. “Then maybe we could cross it.”
“Huh.” Elsa tilted her head. “That’s an idea! Maybe these will help, too.”
Elsa waved her hands, and Anna felt like she’d grown three inches. Looking down at her feet, she realized why: Elsa had transformed Anna’s walking boots into a pair of ice skates. Anna wobbled, but Kristoff grabbed her elbow, keeping her upright.
Elsa nodded at the rushing river. “We can ice-skate.”
That was not what Anna had had in mind. She gulped. It was a good idea, but Elsa was the skater, not Anna. And when Anna did skate, she preferred to skate on smooth, solid ground. On a river, there was always the chance the ice could break, pitching her into icy water. “We’ll be exposed on the open river,” Anna said slowly. “We won’t be able to hide.”
“Luckily,” Elsa said as she made her way down the knoll and to the river’s edge, “you’re traveling with an expert in ice. I can make the ice just thin enough that it’ll support our weight, but anything heavier—like a giant wolf—will crash right through it.” And with that, she stepped out onto the water.
As the toe of Elsa’s skate touched the surface, a bloom of ice crystals appeared on the river. The crystal blossoms doubled, then quadrupled, then further multiplied, until the entire surface of the river had transformed into a sheet of wild ice blossoms refracting over and over and over again in the blinding midday sun.
It was, Anna admitted to herself, another one of Elsa’s great ideas and magical creations. But just not one she really cared for all that much. She trusted her sister, though, and so she moved to the river’s edge. The ice was so thin she could see straight through it, as though it were the delicate pane of her bedroom window.
“Come on, Anna,” Kristoff said, “we’re losing time!” He jumped out onto the river with his own ice skates. The sheet of ice jounced like a trampoline beneath him, but it held, just as Elsa promised it would.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Anna,” Elsa said, reading her sister’s worried expression. “This is our best chance, and we don’t have much time to fix this nightmare.”
Elsa was right. Anna had gotten them into this mess. And now she needed to fix it. Taking a breath, she stepped out onto the ice. Elsa led in front, each stroke of her feet scattering ice crystals across the surface.
Lined on either side by trees in their autumn splendor, the river looked like a diamond necklace set against a cushion of red. And as Anna got her feet under her, she felt her heart lighten, just a bit. The rattling, windswept leaves sounded like applause. She took courage in the sound. It was as though Arendelle were cheering for her, wanting her to succeed. And she would. She wouldn’t stop until Arendelle was safe.
Hours passed. Wind snarled Anna’s hair, and the constant rush of cold wind meant her nose had started to drip. Her feet were beginning to ache. Elsa’s magical skates usu
ally fit just right, but today they squeezed a bit too tight, as though Elsa had forgotten Anna had grown up. Disheartened by the thought, she tried to shake away her melancholy. Anna hit a divot—and tripped. Before she could smash her nose into the ice, a hand caught her arm.
“You okay there, Twinkle Toes?” Kristoff asked.
“Totally,” Anna said. “I meant to do that.” Even though her ice-skating had much improved since her first lesson with Elsa, she wasn’t winning a competition anytime soon.
“Sorry,” Kristoff said. “I didn’t mean to ruin the Anna Axel.”
Putting her nose in the air, Anna sniffed. “I guess I can forgive you.”
Kristoff grinned, his hand slipping into hers. “Are you sure?” And then he was off, skating backward as fast as he could, pulling Anna after him. The world around them blurred as he whirled her around, as confident on the ice as he was on solid ground. Faster and faster they skated, balancing on a thin edge between control and out-of-control. Ahead of them, Elsa cruised with ease, not noticing them tilting, slipping, flying, until—
“Look out!” Anna shouted as the river took an unexpected bend. But the warning came too late. Kristoff didn’t have time to pull them to a new course, and they skidded off the river and into a tall pile of maple leaves. Lying back, Anna watched as a swirl of golden leaves fell around them.
“I meant to do that,” Kristoff said.
“Mm-hmm. The same way I meant to do the Anna Axel?” she asked.
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“ANNA!” Elsa’s voice tore through the air.
“I’m here!” Anna stood up and shook out her travel cloak to send leaves skittering to the ground. “We had a bit of a misstep. Er, mis-skate.”
Elsa’s blade sent a spray of powder over them as she came to an abrupt stop in front of them. “This isn’t a time for game-playing!”
The world as Anna knew it slowed, then froze. And though Elsa hadn’t done any magic—there had been no twirl of her hand, no blast of her ice, no ice shard burrowing its way into Anna’s heart—Elsa’s words froze something deep within Anna. Her hope. And things that are frozen…shatter. Anna could feel the splinters of her broken hope tumbling through her like smashed glass, making every breath, every blink, painful as she looked at her sister, queen of Arendelle, who no longer had any place for her sister’s silly antics.
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