The Frozen and the Eagle

Chapter Two: Comburet

''Tell them that you're twenty percent cooler than Roderik.'' That’s what Rainbow Dash had told Eric to tell her friends when he got to the other tribes' home. The journey wasn’t arduous, but it was a long one; already past nightfall,  Eric was just now within a mile of the tribe’s home. It was near the outskirts of a once grand city that was now just a decaying shell. It was dangerous being so close to cities like these ones. Eric was currently sitting on the sleigh with a rifle pressed against his shoulder and pointed at the factory. The scope on it was one of the better ones and it had served Eric well when he went out hunting. Then again, most of what he hunted could be walked up to and shot point blank, but he liked having distance.

Eric could make out at least ten guards just on the side of the factory which he could see in the distance. They seemed to mostly have melee weapons such as axes, pickaxes, a couple had batons, and one had what looked like a sword. After the cold set in, the military had confiscated a lot of the weapons to manage the population with less problems, but many had kept a hold of theirs.

Deciding that he should get done with the job at hand, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and started heading toward the building. Because of Eric’s white attire, he managed to get within thirty yards of the men patrolling before any of them noticed and called for him to halt. Three of the men walked forward, spreading out so that Eric would have to turn his head slightly to keep one of the men on the edges in sight.

“Who are ya, and what do ya want?” asked the man in the middle.

“Eric. Here for the hunting agreement,” Eric said. The man gave him a look before it faltered and turned into a smile.

“Name's George, follow me,” said the middle man. Eric did just that, only to be stopped at the main doors George motioned for him to leave the sled and rifle. Eric took the mask from his face and threw it on there too.

“Do you want me to leave the pistol?” Eric asked.

“What kind is it?” Eric shook the man’s hand when it was extended to him.

“Forty-five.” George looked at his companions with a look of what-do-you-think. They shrugged and George shrugged back, then waved for Eric to follow him in. Eric breathed a small sigh of relief that went undetected by the men around him. They walked through a few rooms before getting to what might have been an office section of the factory. There were tables lined up, most of which were buried under pounds of strange devices, some looking suspiciously like C-4. “What is all of this?”

“Bombs, man, bombs. We got a bomb savant,” George said, “and, well, really I don’t know why the boss wants it all. Hell, maybe it’s for when we get… nevermind. What I do know is that I wish bomby wouldn’t smoke cigs around the damn things. Ya know, I haven’t had a cig for seven years, yet this uppity bitch somehow always has one between his lips,” George shakes his head in disgust before moving past the room to the factory floor.

The ceiling stretched high above them while the floor was empty of any past machinery. The building had been gutted a few years before the cold came, now it had fifty men and women in it surrounding a stage. Because of Eric’s height, he could see what was happening on it and felt sickness grab his gut. There was a man standing there with two of the creatures similar to Rainbow Dash. One was orange with a blonde mane and she (Eric assumed the two were female) was standing tall even though a man was screaming obscenities into her face, yet it was the second mare that really caught his attention. The poor thing was cowering in fear and looked to be in worse shape than the orange one.

The man stopped after a minute and then motioned for a couple of men to come forward. They grabbed the two and hauled them off somewhere. The dark haired man walked past his people and then right past Eric who caught a whiff of sweat and some kind of cologne. Eric turned to follow the man only to be stopped by the three guys who had been escorting him.

“Let the boss man cool off first,” said George, and then in a much quieter voice, “he is a bit crazy, might just rip ya head off if you start talkin’ to him right now.” Eric nodded. He was lead to a small room that had a couple of couches and chairs. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table and he felt an urge to pick it up. He pushed the urge down and was suddenly very interested in the paintings that had been saved from various museums. Most showed what the earth looked like in the summer, when it had been warm. He let some of his memories surface before shoving those down too. They were painful to remember, yet they also filled him with hope that one day, the world would go back to how it had been. Hope was a large driving force behind the large twenty-eight year old. Hope and faith that not all people were bad and worth the benefit of the doubt.

“Hello there, Eric,” said a voice coming from the doorway. It caught Eric off guard and he hurried to his feet to stand facing the boss. “Well, I didn’t mean to startle you none, though I guess loud noises wouldn’t be the best around you. I must say it is an honor to meet a war hero such as yourself.” He is laying it on a bit thick. He must really want to avoid dealing with wolves and everything else out there.

“I am no war hero,” Eric’s gut twisted itself into a ball of unease and other feelings whenever someone mentioned the battle that he had so valiantly taken part in. Eric looked over the man he had come to see and saw absolutely nothing remarkable about him. He was about as average as you could get.

“Ah, that is surprising. I am used to my men boasting about their exploits. You don’t, I like that,” the average man tilted his head to the side just a bit, the look of curiosity not in any way hidden. “Anyway, you are here for the hunting agreement, yes? Well, I will be more than happy to give what needs to be given. As long as it's within reason of course.”

Eric pulled out an envelope and handed it to the average man. “What should I call you?”

“Boss will do. Follow me.” Boss left the room with Eric closely following and soon they came to what must have been the barracks of the place. Cots lined the room from end to end with about a foot in-between each. Eric figured that he was going to be offered one of the cots and he would gladly accept. He was tired after walking for so long. Boss took him past these and into a separate room that had four full beds, but they didn’t stop until they came to a small hallway with four doors. “My boys and girls have been working hard to renovate this place. Each of these lead to a private room and since none are being occupied you can choose the one you want to sleep in. First, though, we should look over this contract, yes?”

Eric nodded. Boss continued forward until they walked into what appeared to be an office of some kind. There was a big oak desk in the middle, with nice comfy-looking chairs on either side of it. Eric took one after Boss motioned to it, then the man himself sat down on the other side. Eric watched the man read the contract and took notice to all facial expressions and body movements and was pleased to see that there was nothing there that would indicate displeasure.

“I don’t see anything worth objecting over, I can agree to these terms,” Boss gave Eric a smile which was returned. Then the smile slipped from Boss’ face. “You saw those creatures on the stage, didn’t you? We picked up those two shortly before we got here. Something you should know about me; a lot of my decisions are arbitrary. Taking them in, for instance. One of them mentioned that they weren’t from here, that’s kind of obvious; I mean, no mutation turns an animal into a colorful pony, let alone giving it the ability to speak. Well, I tried to reason with ‘em, about taking my people to where they were from. It’s warm there, one of ‘em let that slip, but they wouldn’t say anything more. On another arbitrary decision I had them tortured for the information, but I got nothing from that. After a week of having them here, I let the cultists have ‘em. I’m telling you this because I feel like you should know, so that you may judge whether or not you want to deal with my family, with me.”

“I am not judging you. We all want to be warm again.” The fact that Boss had so openly told Eric what he had done was surprising. Eric didn’t let it show, but a simmering anger was in his stomach making him feel anxious.

“Now... there had been three, but one of them escaped. Two of my boys told me they met you. They said that you saw the remains of one of the creatures?”

“Yeah… uh, there were some feathers and blood.” Boss nodded his head and then shook it.

“It’s a shame, really, but I guess they were telling the truth. According to them, they don’t know how they got here.” Boss' eyes morphed emotions, there was a deep set anger, and what was akin to hatred in his eyes. “That rainbow dyke almost killed one of my men while escaping. Fucking cunt. I’ll have to kill them. I can’t keep giving them food and water but at the same time I can’t just release them. Both fates are cruel, but at the same time it is a blessing. Well, actually, a few of the men want blood for Zachariah and I think I might give it to them. It’ll piss off the crazies, but oh well.” He glanced up at Eric as if asking for his opinion on the weather.

“I could take them.” Eric received a blank look for a couple of seconds before an appraising look came upon Boss’ face.

“You going to keep them as pets?”

“No, meat and their fur. Our butcher is… depraved.” Eric felt slightly sick at telling the man this, as it was not entirely a lie. Of course the butcher had been banished when the council had found out what he had been doing to the animals.

“Alright, I guess that could work. Yeah I like that idea. I like you, Eric. Now let’s get some shut-eye and then tomorrow night we can send you on your way.” Eric was smiling only for it to fade.

“Why tomorrow night?”

“Lately we’ve been having problems with the city and it happens in the day time, snow demons are being pretty active. It’s been a real pain in the arse,” Boss stops and flashes a toothy smile, “but that's what we get for moving next to a city.” Snow demons? Aren't those an omen, signifying something worse to come? Why can't I remember what it was? Eric nodded his head and then left the office. He gave the four doors a quick look then entered the one closest to him. He had barely fallen onto the bed when sleep overtook him.

Boss, on the other hand, wasn’t done yet. He quickly left the building and went straight for the sleigh that Eric had brought with him. Boss went through all of the materials and then went through them again. This didn’t go unnoticed by his men and George walked over. Please don't go nuts on me.

“Hey Boss, ya lookin for something?” George asked and Boss snapped his head up and quickly walked up to the guard.

“You take anything from the sleigh? You protecting that man, huh?” The accusation came out of left field and it took a second before George got his voice back.

“Nah, I mean no sir, I haven’t touched it. Have any of ya touched the sleigh?” the last part was directed toward the other guards. They all shook their heads no and the average-looking man nodded his head, suddenly calm.

“Ok, you’re doing a fine job, George. If you will, though, post a guard on Eric’s door. He is staying in one of the new rooms.”

“Sure thing, Boss, but why? Ya don’t think he’ll do something now, do ya?”

“He wants the ponies. He says that they’ll die when he gets back home but… I don’t know. Just make sure he doesn’t leave the room, okay.”

“Alright, Boss,” Boss left and it was quiet for a few minutes before one of George's guards spoke.

“Average man is off his rocker tonight,” this elicited a few snickers from the men gathered.

“Yeah, he is, and that’s why ya doin' guard duty; get in there,” George said and the man’s face broke into a small smile because now he was out of the cold.

Eric’s eyes opened slowly, not really wanting to see the dark ceiling above him. I'm getting so tired of all this. Just want to stay in and sleep. Yet that night he would start going home with Rainbow Dash’s friends so it wasn’t all bad. He hauled himself into a sitting position then rubbed the back of his neck and yawned. He still felt tired despite it being morning, and having a full nights sleep. He moved off the bed and to the door only to stop when it was thrown open by one of Boss’ men.

“Hiya, wasn’t expecting ya to be awake. Sorry about the door, it a, it got stuck,” the man facing Eric was about eight inches shorter, therefore putting him a little under six feet.

“Yeah,” was the only thing Eric said before moving past the man, clearly not liking the look of him. “Where’s the dining hall?”

“That way, mister giant,” Eric kept his face expressionless while moving in the direction that the man had pointed. I guess some people never grow up. I hope I gave Rainbow Dash enough food. Soon enough he came to a group of people where he asked the same question and was received with a lot less ridicule. It was shortly after this that he found what he was looking for. Grabbing a bowl, he went over to the cook and was given a rather good sized helping of oatmeal and a roll.

“Thanks,” Eric said before moving over to a table. He silently ate for a minute before looking up and noticing that the thirty or so people in the dining hall were in three separate groups. There was at least a table, if not two, in between each group. Eric looked back at his bowl only to snap back up as the table was slightly jostled. It took a couple of seconds, but Eric recognized the man sitting across from him. "Hey Jeremy."

"Eric, I didn't even realize that was you," he smiled.

"Yeah, it took me a couple of seconds to recognize you," Eric said. They sat there for a few seconds in awkward silence, neither one moving. "Why is everyone separated in here?" Jeremy gave him a blank look before it turned serious.

"We got a cult living with us, they don't like anyone that isn't with them. In turn, no one likes them. Boss gave them the creatures in hopes of making peace. It worked for a few days, then someone got beaten nearly to death when they suggested letting the creatures go. We never found out who did it. The creatures and how Boss has been handling that has created friction. You got people sidin' with Boss and then you got people that don't agree with it," Jeremy looks over at the three groups of people before speaking again, "So you got the cultist over there," Jeremy points over at a table that was the farthest away from the doors, "You got the people supportin' Boss and the ones that don't." He pointed at the two other groups in the dining hall. There was a moment of silence. "A few people are talking about leavin' and going to Duma, that just pisses Boss off. Honestly though, he has made some questionable calls lately. I'm afraid there will be violence soon. Just waitin' for something to set it all off." Eric didn't say anything for a minute.

"Why did you sit next to me? Why tell me all this?"

"I'm one of the few that wants to get out of here. I don't hold with what Boss is doin', and I don't want to see you getting hurt. You seem like a good guy, which this place lacks in." Eric stared at the man for a few seconds before turning back to his food, Jeremy did likewise.

Eric was half way done with his meal by the time Boss and a couple of men with rifles walked over. Jeremy saw them, gave Eric a quick glance, then stood and took his empty bowl to the kitchen. Boss watched Jeremy the entire time. He faced Eric and gave him an award-winning smile.

“You sleep well?” asked Boss before sitting down himself, leaving the two men standing.

“Yeah, comfy bed, real nice,” Eric said before turning back to his meal.

“So I was thinking that once you get done with your breakfast that we go and pay the ponies a visit real quick. Also I think it would only be appropriate to let everyone give them a final send off tonight, so were going to have them up on the stage for a little bit,” How is that appropriate? There is something really wrong with you.

“Sounds good.” Eric picked up his eating pace. Once he was done, one of the men holding a rifle picked it up and took it to the kitchen. He returned quickly and they started off for a part of the factory that had some distance from everything else. It was dark and had gone under some heavy renovation to make it jail worthy. They soon stopped in front of a cell holding the two ponies. It was here that Eric noticed that the orange one didn’t have any wings. At first the thought that the men here had cut them off gripped his heart in a vice, only to be soothed by the knowledge that that kind of trauma would have left scars which would have be much bigger than what she had.

“I’ll let you three make introductions,” Boss said to Eric before turning to the ponies, “say hello to your new keeper.” Before the two ponies could say anything, he walked off. Eric watched Boss as he walked down the hall, He said something to one of the guards, but by that time Eric was already facing toward the ponies again. He crouched down so that he was closer to them and then just stared. Unconsciously his hand made its way to his face, covering his mouth. His eyes became a little wet at seeing the condition they were in. I thought Rainbow Dash was bad. Both of them were covered in bruises and cuts. The orange one looked at him definitely while the yellow one hid behind her mane.

“We got nothing ta say to ya,” Eric was taken aback by the fact that the orange one had a southern accent.

“I'm so sorry that this happened. You're going to be okay once I get you out of here. I was told to tell you-”

"Time's up, come on." yelled one of the guards. Eric glanced over to see that the guy was making his way over. Eric stood and walked out with the two guards behind him. Once they were out of the jail, the door was locked and Eric was told that he could do as he pleased until seven. He wandered around the factory for an hour before he went back to his room. It was early afternoon, but Eric was tired and he would need the rest to make the march back home. It took some time, but he finally fell asleep on the soft bed only to slip into a nightmare.

A loud banging echoed throughout the bedroom, causing Eric to jerk awake. He quickly got up and rubbed his eyes. He quickly gathered his belongings before going to the door and was met with three guards. A small ball of dread grew in his stomach and he eyed the rifles that the men were holding. One of them motioned with the barrel of his rifle and Eric moved forward down the hall and figured that they were going to the large room with the stage in it. He was right in his assumption as he found the large room packed with people, more than there were last night.

“Ah, there is our Duma friend,” Boss called from the stage. Eric looked up at him and saw the two ponies, only there was something seriously wrong with the yellow one. She was laying on the ground with a small puddle of blood around her muzzle and one of her wings, the left one, was twisted, broken, and laying limp. The orange pony was standing over her protectively though she wouldn’t be able to do anything if Boss or anyone else wanted to harm the yellow mare. Eric swiftly made his way toward them, the crowd parting for him, until he was next to the stage only for one of the guards on it to motion for him to come up.

Eric went up the three steps on the left side and now he really was towering over everyone else in the room. He moved forward until he was within about arms-length of Boss and about five feet of the injured pony. Eric kept his face void of emotion so as to not show his disgust about Boss’ actions. It would not do well to anger him; after all, he was just a guest in what could easily become a hostile place.

“Ah, yeah, they tried to escape so I felt that they needed to be punished. I’m sorry if the fresh injuries will somehow tamper with the taste of the meat or quality of the fur,” Boss said while a small smile spread across his face. The orange pony let out a small neigh after hearing what Boss had said. The look she gave Eric could kill, yet he took it knowing that, to a degree, he was to blame; he shouldn’t have talked to them. The guards probably told Boss. The orange one opened her mouth as if to say something but Eric gave her a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. She saw it and closed her mouth while looking down at the mare between her legs with a look of worry plastered on her face.

Eric had promised Rainbow Dash that he would get her friends but now, in his eyes, the yellow one looked like she was at death’s door. He could practically feel the chance of redemption slipping from his grasp.

“Well I hope your stay has- Jacob, what are you doing?” Eric turned so that his left side now faced a man holding a gas can. Jacob stopped when he got next to Eric which worried him and it showed too.

“I thought you said we were going to burn ‘em?” Jacob said and the deadpan look along with the straight answer was enough to make Eric worried for the ponies, but more importantly for himself.

“Eric, I have no idea what he is talking about,” Eric turned his head to face Boss only to have a sucker punch catch him in the jaw. Eric stumbled a step back and the factory floor immediately went quiet.

“What the fuck, Boss, do you want Duma to come down on us?” yelled a man in the crowd. The tension, which had been building over the past few weeks, finally snapped like an over-stressed rubber band. The man that had spoken suddenly slumped as a nearby cultist struck him over the head with a small copper pipe, lining up a second blow before he himself was hit. The room dissolved into a mosh pit of two sides fighting; the cultists and the people who wanted the ponies to burn faced those who wanted a chance to get rid of the madman that had been leading them, a chance to separate from the cultists, a chance to redeem themselves for not standing up to stop the abuse.

Eric wasn’t a martial artist, he'd never had formal training in fighting but he was a brawler and had the strength of a bear. His right fist was wild but it caught Boss in the jaw and sent him flying off the back of the stage; however, Jacob was still there and he poured some fuel onto Eric, before frantically going through his pockets, searching for matches with the intent of lighting him on fire. The gasoline splashed Eric’s left arm, side, and back which only caused Eric to fully go after his attacker. He let a vicious backhand fly, knocking the gas can out of Jacob’s hands and into the withering crowd. The backhand was followed up with a heavy punch to Jacob’s side, knocking the air from his lungs. With Jacob breathing heavily, Eric grabbed the man and threw him off the stage.

The sound of gunfire suddenly filled the air; bodies jerked and blood flew, painting the floor and the people a ghastly red. Return fire started and the madness of the fighting really turned into slaughter and panic. It was a horrible sight, one that Eric would not forget for a long while, but right now it churned his stomach and made him avert his eyes. His eyes fell upon the ponies that he had promised to save. Moving forward swiftly and with purpose he was by their side within a second. He crouched and looked the orange mare in the eyes.

“I can get you to Rainbow Dash,” Eric said.

"Why would ah trust ya?" she snapped back. Eric's eyes flittered around for a second before they focused back onto the orange pony.

"I'm twenty percent cooler than Roderik," the words had the impact that he wanted and while the mare still had a distrustful, suspicious, and angry look with a twinge of hate in her eyes she nodded her head. Unbeknownst to Eric, but Boss’ most faithful followers were fighting their way onto the stage to attack him. It was then that a shattering boom sounded causing all the fighting to cease. Eric looked behind him and saw that the far wall leading into the rest of the factory now had cracks with smoke billowing out of them. “Get down!” Then, it was as if the gates to some forsaken place opened wide. Fire lashed out through the wall, through the doors consuming greedily, taking the clothing, skin, muscle, and then bone for itself. Eric turned and gathered the two ponies in his arms, shielding them from the inferno. The only protection Eric had was his clothing and the men some feet back on the stage as breakers. The fire tore through the men and then covered Eric, yet just as fast and violent as it had come it was gone, leaving charred remains of those closest to the wall, burning bodies a bit farther on, and the screaming of the injured who had been even father away.

For a split second Eric thought that he had escaped from harm but that would soon be replaced as he felt the heat on his back and left arm. Flames had licked him and they liked the way he tasted, so they bit hard and without mercy. Eric quickly rolled off the two creatures to stand and start to tear in earnest at his clothing like a wild animal would at a trap. The fire had now chewed through his clothing and had a taste of his skin and, as if with a new vigor, it bit harder. Eric let out a yell and the yelling continued to get louder until it was a scream of pain, his fingers tugging at his clothing but they clung to him as if wanting him to burn. It was only seconds since the clothing caught but his skin was turning red and started to blister. The pain was increasing as was his frantic screaming and scrabbling at the clothing he wore.

Then the coat tore, coming off Eric in one large burning piece. Yet the small amount of elation was cut short when the burning didn’t stop; in fact, it was worse than before. The sleeve of the shirt he wore under the coat was awash in flames and it was melting and burning the fabric into his skin, blisters formed and then erupted only for the spots to start blackening all the while he tore at his shoulder ripping the cloth. It came away with much more ease than the coat did, but so did charred skin, leaving weeping wounds in its wake. The large man fell to his knees shaking and letting out a pained cry as he saw the ruined flesh of his arm. From the fingertips to the shoulder it had varying degrees of damage.

The thudding of feet caught his attention just in time as an ax from one of the survivors came at him, and Eric in his daze followed his base instinct: he raised his arm to try and deflect the blow. Maybe it was a blessing or maybe it was more of a curse, but he had raised his left arm, the burned arm. The ax blade was dull but came down like a hammer, cutting through his skin, smashing through the ulna in his forearm and knocking painfully into his radius, but the bone didn't break. Eric let out another bloodcurdling scream which rose in pitch as the ax was ripped from his arm. The large man fell back and only just managing to raise his shoulder and arm again so that the ax did not strike his head or neck, however this only allowed the weapon to land on his bicep, further injuring the arm. The blade bit deep into the arm and knocked into Eric’s bone.

Maybe it was instinct, an animalistic urge to live, but Eric let out a couple of hard kicks at his attacker which caused him to fall. The attacker fell onto Eric but he also dropped the ax which landed out of reach on the burned stage. The man, now weaponless, grabbed Eric around the throat and started to squeeze hard. In this position, Eric could see the man strangling him and saw a somewhat familiar face that was hidden by severe burns. At this point he was too weak to properly do much of anything to save himself; or so he thought till his hand fell to his side, hitting the grip of the .45 in the hip holster. With a sudden spurt of energy, Eric drew the weapon and fired all eight rounds into the man on top of him.

The attacker jerked and coughed up blood which splattered Eric in the face and then he slumped forward, letting dead weight fall onto him. He froze with the pistol still raised, his hand shaking wildly while he gasped for air. It was only when the orange pony came and knocked the dead man off, that Eric came back to himself and started moving. It was slow and quite painful, but he managed to get to his knees. He looked down at the pony and saw that she had the yellow Pegasus draped over her back but he also saw that she was giving him a somewhat frightful look.

“I-I had to, I had to,” with those words Eric got to his feet and stumbled over to the stairs only to trip and fall down them. He landed on his right side, but it didn’t stop a piercing yell to come out and accompany the other screams of agony filling the air. Eric slowly got back to his feet, though he was visibly swaying and sweat drenched his body, his face pale. Blood leaked from the mangled arm, yet he still moved forward and out of the factory floor only to find that the room leading out was destroyed and debris blocked the exit. Eric turned only he did so too fast, causing him to feel lightheaded, and fell against the wall eliciting a sharp hiss as his back pressed against it. Waiting a second before moving again, he finally gave the factory floor a good look and instantly lost the contents of his stomach. The smell, the sounds, the sights all hit with the force of a truck, causing him to nearly black out.

It was only the thought of getting the two ponies, one of which was looking at him expectantly, to safety that kept him from slipping into the void of unconsciousness. Eric looked around the room trying to find an exit when he realized that the windows were low enough to reach and that a fair few had their glass blown away. He walked over to the nearest window and knocked most of the shards out, then gingerly got to his knees.

“Come on,” he motioned for the orange pony to move forward and she did so, if somewhat reluctantly. Eric made used his good hand as a step which the pony used. It was awkward for them both, the mare’s warm coat brushing against Eric’s face as she used his uninjured shoulder as leverage to get out, all the while balancing the pegasus on her back. Once she was through and out into the cold, Eric followed, though at a much slower pace.

The air was freezing, but the flames that were consuming the building gave light and battled the cold. With the pony in tow, Eric made his way for the sleigh that was still by the door. He moved forward with every intent of getting the ponies under the tarp and to start pulling it home; however, that wasn’t how it was going to go down. No, fate wasn’t done being cruel, not yet.

“Halt, ya piece of shit,” yelled a voice behind the three. Eric did stop and turned to see six men, four of whom had assault rifles while the other two had a melee weapon of some sort, covered in blood and they all had some form of a burn or scorch mark marring them. Eric raised his right arm up a bit in a placating gesture only for the men to raise their rifles. Eric wished he hadn’t agreed to get Rainbow Dash’s friends, but it was too late and he wasn’t going to cry over dying but he also wasn’t going to watch the guns go off and tear into him and the ponies. He let his eyes close only for them to snap open again when a sudden roar and an explosion of snow erupted underneath the six men.

What Eric saw made his eyes bulge, his blood to run cold, and made him wish that the four men had squeezed their triggers. Eric remembered what snow demons meant. They meant Frozen. Standing in the center of the group was one of the monsters. It was one of the many ancient creatures that had awoken fourteen years previously and had caused the cold to descend. It was humanoid in shape except its arms were much too long, reaching its knees, the skin was a mottled grey, blue, and purple. The Frozen was thin, extremely so, with no eyes, ears or nose but it did have a mouth; such a terrible mouth. The orifice was in the center of the head and was large enough to fit a full grown man’s head inside. There were no teeth, but the kind of bite that it delivered was much worse than anything that teeth could ever do. Its very presence caused the fires to freeze, the wind that was blowing to die with a groan, and the temperature dropped as if the air itself perished.

“Run,” and then the human and two ponies ran to his sleigh, adrenaline kicking them into a high gear. While they ran, the Frozen stayed standing, not even looking back at the fleeing creatures. No, its attention was on the six men it had knocked over. The man on its right, one of the two with a melee weapon, stood up and swung at the tall figure which was a mistake. The man should have ran and let the beast kill his fellows. The Frozen’s arm shot out, hitting the man in the throat. The throat immediately crumpled and blood flew from the man’s mouth. He crumpled to the snow.

Another man let loose a few rounds, punching holes into the monster. Unfortunately for him, the rounds had no noticeable effect on the it, it didn't even bleed. It was with an almost lethargic action the Frozen raised its arms and spread them. From them, a sickly black sludge started to come out of its skin, only instead of falling to the snow it rose up much like smoke would. Then the remaining five men were enveloped by the sludgy smoke which caused them to cough and gag, leaving the only opening the beast needed. It moved forward, grabbed one man, and snapped his neck with nothing more than a squeeze, then ripped another man’s head off only to use the head as a club, shattering a fourth man’s lower jaw, then skull. All the while the fifth man was blind due to the tears streaming down his face and deaf because his coughing and gagging. The Frozen grabbed the man by the head, its long fingers encircling it, and started to squeeze. it applied pressure slowly, then suddenly and violently put pounds upon pounds on the poor man's head and it imploded in a shower of blood and brain. It turned and started to take large, almost loping, steps in the direction of the ponies and human.