Decembert the First: Ice Fishing

Aiden knew he should leave it alone. Despite his school’s reputation for emotional instability, he was not, in fact, suicidal and the sheer rage boiling off of Lambert was more than enough of a warning to anyone that the wisest course of action was to keep quiet. It roiled off the Wolf and coiled through the air like… well… like the water currently evaporating off of him in puffs of turbid white.

A similar cloud was shivering its way off of Aiden’s soaked skin as they trudged back from the lake to the clearing in which the caravan had made camp for the night. It wasn’t that far of a walk and the average land speed of an angry Lambert was generally pretty quick, even hampered by a foot and a half of snow, so unless they wanted to be the butt of every joke from now until New Year’s they had better come up with a damn good story in the next few minutes.

“Lambert—” Aiden tried.

“Leave it.”

The words were as sharp and short as the icicles forming on his eyelashes, but he didn’t even raise his voice. Too pissed to project—that was a new one.