The spines of the Frozen Fathers slow me drastically, but I could not have continued at such a pace while holding my ward anyway. It is easy to get lost in amongst the enormous cacti, but the desert creatures avoid them so soon after sundown. In the dark it would be easy to impale oneself on their wicked spines and they too have been known to burst like their smaller brethren in the icy air. It is worth the risk to avoid an encounter with the more dangerous predators of the basin. The darkness deepens as I press further into the grove. Before it can become complete, inky blackness I pause. I must have light to proceed safely.
Light shines easily upon those with Spirit
I recall my first lesson upon arriving at the Library. The Librarian's were shocked when I rejected that assertion and showed them how I created light using a combination of Spirit and Breath and Mind all together. They were right of course, and bade me create light without using any Spirit at all. I did, stubborn as I was, and foolish, smashing rocks together to make tiny sparks to prove a point. Even I acknowledge that light is simple with Spirit now. I split my focus once again, allowing my breath to slow and widening the barrier of air around me. I curl my hands into the correct shape, thumbs and pinkies together before channeling a slow stream of spirit. It leaves my right hand and joins with the ward still hanging in the air around me. The dust I used to aid its creation and maintenance sparkles and crackles as the flow of spirit spreads throughout the ward, twisting and shimmering around me before flowing back into the extended fingers of my left hand. With the circuit of spirit complete I can maintain it with moderate focus and uncurl my fingers as the flow continues, leaving my body and then returning in a steady trickle, providing soft illumination as it does.
The subtle orange glow of my ward is enough now to illuminate my way forward, and I see the ancient stump that lies at the center of the grove. It is long dead and burst hundreds years ago. I head towards it and climb its broken, frost rimed spines. As I reach its top twenty feet up I gather my energy and leap across empty space, grasping at the first rung of many spines curiously arranged like a ladder, seemingly growing that way naturally from the emerald skin of its brother and halfway up its trunk.
Even the Librarians can't explain how this particular cacti, this enormous Frozen Father of the desert, hundreds or even thousands of years old, has grown spines in such a way, or why. Some ancient focus technique perhaps?
With only limited energy and focus I immediately let the thought flash away before it becomes a distraction. My ward flickers momentarily, and I lose some warmth and spirit as I climb the ladder. It extends all the way to the top of the grove. As I climb the ladder winds around the trunk, spiraling slowly towards the sky. I lesson the flow of spirit as I reach the light of stars and moons filtering between spines and trunks until I finally reach the domed top of the cacti and no longer need its light.
Once again I am perched hundreds of feet above the basin. Looking out over the changed landscape of twinkling frost I see the cloud of icy mist hanging in the distance that I observed earlier.
Wyverns
I almost lose the rhythm of my breath but manage to stop the ward from faltering. I cannot afford to as exposed as I am at the top of the grove.
At least they are headed away from my path home
I can just see their massive outstretched wings at the edges of the obscuring fog. They glide across the frozen wastes, stirring up the frost and filtering the frozen mist for nutrients. They are not malicious, but are so gigantic they pose a significant threat to every other creature of the desert that gets in their way. Unless I tarry long enough for them to change course I can ignore them. I turn to look back towards the mesa and scour the sky for the winged beasts I can not ignore.
I can see nothing against the backdrop of moons and stars or the silvery mass of the cliffs I perched atop at sunset. A spark of fear threatens to break my focus on the ward keeping me warm.
If they have spotted me I am too exposed here, I will not be prey today, time to go
I renew my focus on my ward and breath more deeply, forcefully. The field of dead air spreads out around me, and I begin to mold it with my will, allowing it to widen and stretch with the force of my breath. An extension from both of my shoulders, flattening and widening just so, narrowing back in towards my waist, and then extending outwards again, but less, from my knees to my feet. The shaping of my ward with breath and will is exhausting, and I close off the flow of spirit from my right hand that lit my passage from the depths of the grove, allowing it to return to me through my left hand. As it fades from the ward I glance at its new shape, a pair of wings extend to either side of me, molded by my will and breath, shimmering faintly as the last dregs of spirit returns to my body.
Without hesitation I take two running steps and leap from the top of the cactus, trusting the new shape of my ward to hold, to catch the frigid night air, to bear my weight, and allow me to glide above the hazards of the frozen desert basin towards my goal. As always, my heart leaps into my throat with the initial rapid descent and sudden rise before my flight stabilizes itself. The rush of air over the outstretched ward increases reduces its effectiveness at keeping me warm but there is not much I can do, and my flight is not a long one. Looking down as my flight takes me beyond the edges of the cactus grove I see one of the predators I wish to avoid. An enormous spiky, bulbous shape ten times my size, is moving slowly around the perimeter of the grove, pausing periodically to lash the air with a frost rimed tongue and sniff the frozen air. It shines brilliantly with moonlight reflecting from icy scales and vicious spines.
It's following my trail, that's where I entered the grove
It is a cactus wyrm. A living, moving, breathing symbiotic creature, both cactus and lizard, and one of the more deadly variety based on its size. It senses my warmth as I pass directly overhead and it looks skyward, it curls its tail suddenly like a whip, jettisoning a spray of poisonous spines like rockets from the many cactii growing like warts amongst its spiky scales. Thankfully I am too high for even this monsters projectiles to reach, and it roars in frustration at the night sky and paces back and forth for a moment. Thankfully the deadly predator chooses not to give chase, instead choosing to lie in wait. As my glide begins to put distance between me and the cactus wyrm I see it curl itself against the side of one of the many rocky outcrops in the shadow of the grove. It roars once more in frustration before silence falls and movement ceases. The cactii on its hide rapidly expand and grow, completing the illusion that it is nothing more than a small stand of lesser cactii growing against the rock.
The frozen fathers may not be as safe for a while, who knows how long it will lie in wait