The sea ice had become thicker than last night, putting a silent pressure against the city of Odelle, cocooning it with frozen dread. Each passing day, anxiety tightened the grip around the staff of the Wolfram mansion.
Mikael watched the staff whisper among themselves, their eyes lingering too long on the frozen horizon beyond the windows, scanning it anxiously with shallow breaths.
'How thick was it now?' was the question hovering visibly over their heads. Actually, the concern did not need to be spoken out loud. It was as if the words themselves were carved on their faces; the tightness seen on their brows and the whiteness of their lips.
'Would the wolves come tomorrow? Would it be in the morning? Or at night, while we sleep?'
The fear gnaws at them, worsening after hearing the report of the massive beasts slipping through the forest, unseen by the Marquess himself. And now, knowing that fact alone twisted their fear.
