A Measure of Frost

A faint draft whispered across the stone courtyard, and for the first time, sensation followed the cold. My posture had been fixed, yet as awareness settled, I found I could command my own limbs. Rather than yielding to impulse, I stepped back a fraction of an inch to survey the space. Beneath my boot lay a wide, crystalline star; I tested its rigid facets against the flagstones, feeling its solid edges answer my weight. Across the pavement, a silent counterpart stood poised in confrontation. I held my ground, drew a deliberate breath of winter air, and let quiet order prevail.