The Field of Frost lay glistening in the early morning sunlight. Tiny crystals of ice floated through the air just above the knee-high grass and frozen flowers. Wisps of fog rolled across the Field in various places and made tiny rainbows as the sun played its light across them.
Corrandan Drake stood at the edge of the Field, gazing at its beauty and taking in the majesty of the scene. There were rumors, and more-than-rumors, of the dangers of the Field of Frost, but Corrandan saw none of those now. All he saw was a beatific meadow that stretched out for as far as the eye could see. It was said that once you entered the Field, you could only leave by one exit, and that way out was shielded from human eyes by a fairy spell.
Fortunately, Corrandan had a map, allegedly drawn by an explorer who had not only entered the Field some 800 years prior but who had also been able to ascertain the way back out of it. And the map had marked on it several supposed troves of treasure contained in the Field, enough treasure to make a man beyond wealthy. Corrandan had tried to have the map authenticated once or twice, but in both cases, the experts he’d had to look at it had tried to steal it from him. He’d had to use his sword in one case and his dagger in the other to foil the ill-thought thefts.
Corrandan gazed over the Field for a moment longer. He could almost hear the sound of ice crystals moving against each other, a light tinkling sound like miniature chimes.
“Well, nothing for it but to go in,” he murmured to himself. And with that he took several steps into the Field.
The first thing he noticed was that his feet and lower legs were instantly cold. And they weren’t just a little bit cold. They were frozen to the bone, as though he’d been trudging through knee-high snow for hours.
This was the first hazard he’d read warnings about, and he thought he was prepared for it. But being mentally prepared and being physically prepared turned out to be two quite separate things. He stopped where he was, and immediately took several steps backward, to leave the Field and gain himself a momentary respite to regroup and recover.
But he didn’t reach the edge of the Field. And this was the second hazard. He turned to look behind him — only to find that the Field now stretched out as far as the eye could see behind him, as well. He took a couple more steps toward the place where the Field’s edge should have been, thinking it might just be an illusion, but to no avail. He was well and truly into the thick of the Field now, and the only way out was to find the fairy path.
His feet and legs in agony, Corrandan turned once more to face the Field and began walking as fast as his frozen appendages would allow. He consulted his map and almost lost hope at how the nearest supposed shelter was, a small treasure trove indicated on the map. He would make for that location and hope that he could summon a fire once he got there.
He walked, and the sun rose to greet him without warmth.
