..The cracks and groans of breaking sea ice echoed eerily in the night. Ayra shifted restlessly, her eyeslashes fluttering feverishly as she dreamed. The crude cotton blanket was rough against her cheek.

In the cot beside her, Guinevere, her best friend, muttered something indiscernible before rolling over again. Ayra woke with a start, her heart racing. Eyes wild, she scanned their small room for signs of danger. But there was only the chair, closet and her backpack...but in the deep blue shadows, anything could be hiding.

Silent footsteps, muffled by the thick, gleaming floorboards, broke the silence like ripples disturbing the calm waters of a pond. Ayra leapt gracefully up the stairs; three at a time, until she reached the top.

The deck of the ship was moon washed and brilliant, all gently ruffled sails and quietly groaning timbers. She padded soundless to the rail and looked down on the dark waters, letting her mind wander....

Silent footsteps heralded Guinevere's arrival, and Ayra turned slowly, her eyes questioning.

"The ice..." she trailed off, lost in thought.

"I know." her friend stated simply. There was a strange, bleak expression on her face, as if she were bracing herself for what might come. Ayra turned again to the water, and watched with growing unease as more and more ripples spread across it's tar-black surface. A spark of fear prickled her spine but she ignored it, tracing her fingers along an iceberg, relishing in it's extreme cold. Suddenly she jerked back, alarm flaring in her sea-green eyes. A second ago, the iceberg had been an arms-lenght away from the side of the boat.

Now it was half that distance.

"Guinevere," she said slowly, taking a couple of steps back. Her footseps sounded unnaturally loud. So did the frantic pounding of her heart. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears.

Guinevere was standing by the bow, her pale face frozen in fear.

An eerie wailing echoed aound them, sending cold tingles up their spines. It rushed through the gaps in the ice and with it came deep shadows, like wraiths from Hell.

...Wide-eyed with fear, the two elven girls stared at the slowly advancing ice-berg. It's rumbling course shook the floor of the ship and sent tremors scurrying up the timbers.

Suddenly the tall, strong figure of Eynor, the captain, was visible at the wheel. Ayra sighed in relief. It was going to be okay.

She was mistaken.

With an ear-splitting crack, ice and wood collided with an impact that sent them all flying backwards. They hit the opposite side of the rail with a sickly thud and fell to the floor, winded but otherwise unhurt.

"Are you ok?" Guinevere's anxious voice broke through her stupor and she rose to her feet.

"Yeah..I think so.." she said shakily, holoding the rail for support. But it shook violently under her hand and she withdrew, holding her arms against her chest.

Her friend's face was wrinkled in a worried frown, and Ayra experienced a flash of inignation. Just because she had been sick recently didn't mean..she stopped in mid-thought, shaking her head as she realized that Guinevere had every right to be upset.

"So," she ventured casually, keeping her tones light despite her heavy heart. "What are we going to do about the iceberg?"