Sabina didn’t know how long the lake was, the realm never got this cold, not for a long time. Her feet were numb, the soles of her shoes wear teetering over the line of unusable. She clung to her small frame for just a hint of warmth.

Soon, Sabina thought, soon, she would be able to go home. She could explain to her mother where she had been, help her father with repairs, listen to her sister blab about how her teachers were wrong. Oh how she couldn’t wait to get home.

Just a few more minutes, she thought, just a few more.

She could taste the her mother’s cookies, hear her father’s grumble from trying to laugh, see Constance’s toothy grin. She could feel her heart grow bigger, the mere thought of arriving home.

Just a bit further.

It had been so long since she had a hug, or a companion. She couldn’t remember the last person who had spoken to her, the last person to show her compassion.

Maybe it was the woman who gave her the shoes, a few months ago. The woman told Sabina she reminded her of her daughter, an adventurous woman who needed some help. She liked that, she was on an adventure. An adventure she would like to go home from.

Soft, crunchy snow, crushed under her shoes. She had made it, she was on the other side. She could go home.

But she would never go home, for home was never at the edge of the lake. For the rest of her short life, she would wonder why she had walked on the lake, why she had made her way, almost freezing herself to death, never getting rewarded.

Sabina would, unfortunately, not figure it out until she was dying.

She had gone home, for the middle of winter had called on its daughter. And she responded.