The river was half crusted with ice, the snow trampled where various wildlife and villagers had come for water. Trin tried not to think about the cold, or the fact even with the clothing in the pack, he’s wasn’t going to be warn again any time soon. The Binder hover behind him, the merest whist of a shadow, thankfully silent. There should still be stones here, scattered along the riverbed. The ice and frigid temperatures would have kept the gatherers away.

He pauses by the stand of tall grasses, this was where he’d found the larger cache last summer. There’s a slight tingle, more a feeling than a smell that tells him there’s stones nearby. He starts to shrug out of the pack, but the Binder pushes past him, rolling down into the water like fog.

Fria solidifies, somewhat, to cut through the ice to the magic scattered below. But the Binder stays dispersed, and it give Trin the shivers, watching a shadow seep into the river. That and the overwhelming sense of hunger as the creature consumes the magic in gulping mouthfulls.

And all he can think of is how much he really wants to be home.