Logan's POV
The cold is a living thing. It claws its way through Månina's cloak, through my clothes, and sinks its teeth deep into my marrow. Every breath is a knife-sharp drag of air that feels like it's frosting my lungs from the inside out. I am a ghost made of ice and fear, frozen solid in the shadow of a rocky outcrop.
Thoom. Thoom. THOOM.
The giant's footsteps rattle me through and through. They travel up through the frozen ground, vibrating through the soles of my boots and into my teeth. Each one is a seismic, reminding me of how utterly, pathetically small I am.
Oh shit, I cannot be caught.
I crawl to the opening of the cavern and press myself flatter against the ice-rock, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. Peering around the edge, my brain struggles to process the scale of what I'm seeing.
The giant who snatched us up is storming through the barren ice scape towards a mountain. No, not a mountain. Another giant. One that's significantly bigger than him.
