Lyra thought she knew what winter was. It was her tenth winter, and it meant the leaves had finally finished falling, the outside was cold, and snow sometimes fell. That could not adequately describe winter in her new home. The icy season had just begun when Lyra was taken from Midnight Crest. When she’d arrived at the fortress, the air bit in a way it didn’t in her old home. It cut through her clothes and froze to the very marrow of her bones. When Lyra mentioned how cold the winter in Iron Claw was, Mara laughed.
“This isn’t winter child,” she said, giving her what could only be described as a look of pity. “The first storm will come soon, and then you will know truly the beginning of our winter.”
The storm didn’t just arrive. It descended, smothering the mountains and valleys in endle
