Moonsong Glacier [BOO] In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

A rippling to the air.

A churn to the frost. The glacier seemed to warp with color and a haze of gray, opalescent.

Those eyes unwavering where they sank in the gloom; but the air trembled like an ocean current, roiling, a smoke.

Mine, rasped a voice abyssal deep. Mine! The green flash of northern lights between the trees; greensun setting.

A beastly howl of wind! Air sucking around the boy a rush of brine and blood and green, livid! Wind that felt like teeth cutting at cheeks and chest, dark-capped, serrated, while the howl curdled the air!