When she was a little girl, Honeymaren listened to stories about the creatures of the forest. There were cryptids of all sorts – the earth giants, whom they feared, and the invisible elementals of fire, water and wind, whose shapes the stories could never agree on. Werewolves, witches, fae, trolls, beings of every type lurking behind the trees, ready to pounce at any inattentive northuldran child.

Maren had a healthy amount of respect for magical beings. She was also, by far and large, the most extroverted person in a tribe of mostly quiet, introspective bunch who tended to like reindeers better than people. Her brother liked to joke around that she could befriend anyone and anything.

And so it was no surprise that she was, by unspoken yet unanimous agreement, chosen as the one to approach – and keep an eye on – the Fifth Spirit of legend. And while she could indeed get close to most people, as it turned out, Elsa was a whole new kind of puzzle.

"Maren."

She turned. It was unusual of Elsa to start a conversation. Maren watched her from the corner of her eye, crouched near where the rubble of what was once the Great Dam met the water. "Yes?"

Elsa was staring at the river, brows furrowed. She approached things with the focus of a hunting hawk, Maren had noticed in the brief time they'd been friends. It was one of the few things she knew about Elsa. Maren had met walled-off people before, but Elsa's stoicism was in a category of its own.

"Look." Face impassive. No change in expression. She was as hard to read as one of the Earth Giants – harder still, because Maren could guess their motives but not Elsa's. "What do you call that one?"

She approached the margin. She had a hypothesis not that Elsa could particularly see further than a normal person, but rather that she had an intrinsic sense of living things, particularly those in water.

Enhanced vision or not, the target of her attention was easy to see and easier still to identify. "That's a pink snapper."

"I've never seen one of those in Arendelle."

The fish splashed its tail, lazily swimming downstream. "Maybe The Mist kept them in. They make for good roasts." She paused, let Elsa resume her walk and followed. "I'll let you know, the next time we hold a celebration. So you can have a taste."

A nod. The hint of a smile, there and gone almost too fast to be noticed. "Thank you."

They moved in silence for a while longer. Maren let it stretch between them so that it progressed from something awkward into something comfortable. Elsa was a quiet one, the type who would fit right in with the rest of the tribe, really, but she didn't know that yet because she was too skittish to meet everyone else.

Maren couldn't help but compare her temper to those she knew were blood related to her: an aunt. A pair of twin cousins. A grandmother, long passed. But Elsa hadn't asked, and so Maren didn't push it upon her, so she could take her time. Maren wasn't even quite sure how blood relations worked with beings such as her, save that her sisterly bond to Anna knew no bounds.

"Maren?"

Unusually talkative today, she noted, and sped up her step to catch up with her. "Yes?"

"Thank you. For, you know. Showing me around." Silence. Maren tilted her head but waited. She found that Elsa was one to think before she spoke, and that thinking often took a while. "I appreciate… you not being scared of me."

Ah. So this is what this is about. Maren smiled. "You are a little scary."

For a split second, her façade broke, eyes widening at the unexpected answer. Then silence again, much longer this time. "Then I appreciate the honesty, at least."

Maren laughed, and Elsa turned to her. "It's only natural," Maren pushed her hands into her pockets. "Anything as beautiful as you causes this sort of… existential fear." She punctuated the sentence with a sly smirk, taking Elsa's hand. Elsa needed time, time to process, time to reply, and Maren took advantage of that knowledge to tug her ahead, not giving her a chance to protest.

When they stopped, a bit winded, Maren's grin widened and she shielded her eyes with her hand. They were on top of a rocky formation, just high enough that she could see above the whole forest. She turned back to help Elsa up, but realized she had already climbed newly-made ice stairs.

"Maren, what the –"

"Look," she offered a hand anyway, and Elsa took it on reflex. Maren sat down, pulled Elsa with her. "I used to come here every day. To try and see past The Mist. It was the first place I came to when it was gone. Turns out you get to see the most beautiful sunsets." She tracked the sun with her eyes. "Shouldn't take long."

" – Oh." Elsa looked around, took in the view, eyes briefly drifting to where their hands touched. She pulled away. Maren gave her space. "I see what you mean," she spoke after a while, when red hues had crawled over the trees like a wave of fire. "Makes one feel really small, doesn't it?"

"It's not a bad feeling," Maren crossed her legs at the ankles and stared at the sky. "Gives me perspective. Reminds me of what's important." When the wind buffeted her face, she closed her eyes.

"Is that how I make you feel?"

"Mm." She opened one eye, peeked at Elsa, found her as stone-faced as always. "Not quite. With you it's… something else. Another kind of concern."

"What does that mean?" There was a certain vulnerability in her voice, the slightest waiver in pitch. She exhaled. "Maren, please."

Sometimes, she feels like just a woman, Maren punched her lightly on the shoulder. The eagerness to please, the fear of rejection, the layers and layers of self-sabotage disguised as self-preservation. "C'mon. Don't make me say it."

Elsa opened her mouth. Closed it. Broke eye contact and stared off into the distance. Her jaw tensed ever so slightly. There was a chill in the air, a gust a couple degrees too cold. Her hair flowed like liquid against the wind. "I don't know what you mean. But you don't have to say it if it makes you uncomfortable."

Sometimes, though, she feels like something else.

The back-and-forth dance between too close and out of her grasp, that was the terrifying thing.

"You just look like a real heartbreaker."

Elsa turned to face her, fast enough that Maren could hear the movement. Her eyes were cold, hard ice. She licked her lips, stared at her with that intensity, the hawk-gaze that brought her goosebumps in delightful trepidation, a predator about to pounce and one could never know whether it was for play or for the kill. This was a woman who'd frozen the ocean over, a woman who'd tamed the elementals of myth with the ease Maren would tame a reindeer, a woman who was all the bedtime stories Maren's grandparents told her in the flesh.

Elsa looked at her, but said nothing.

Maren exhaled. She searched Elsa's expression for an answer, but as usual, found none. A flock of birds beat their wings, dissipating the tension in the air. Maren realized her heart was racing.

"Have you ever seen those?" She pointed at the birds with her chin. Elsa followed her gaze. "They're nightjars. They come out during twilight."

"Yes. We have those in Arendelle, too." Her tone carried profound melancholy and something Maren couldn't quite pinpoint. Maybe Elsa was just tired. Maybe it was sadness. "It is a good spot. Thank you for showing me."

"Thank you for coming, even though I didn't give you that much of a choice." It was a lie. Elsa could have stopped her. They both knew it. "I'll let you know where we're going next time. I know you don't like surprises. But this was just… I guess it was a surprise for me, too. I didn't plan on bringing you here."

"I'm glad you did." She offered a small, rare smile, then broke eye contact. "And I appreciate the thought. It feels like you know me well."

The irony of it wasn't lost on her. "I just pay attention. But you're hard to read."

"I don't mean to be. It's just… how I was taught, I suppose." She hugged her own knees, rested her chin on top of them. "Feelings make me anxious."

She didn't get it, the realization struck Maren like lightning. Elsa didn't cut her down but didn't encourage her. She didn't, in fact, react to the hints thrown at her at all, as if she couldn't quite read between the lines. Maren had to bite down the urge to break into mildly hysterical giggles. By the spirits, she didn't get it.

She snorted, raised her head to look at the stars. They were beautiful and bright, better than anything she could have imagined when the Mist covered the sky and the elders told her about the specks of light in the black night. "Just take your time with them. Let them wash over you. Feel them. You don't have to do anything about them, just… feel them. They aren't that scary."

"Everything you just said sounded utterly terrifying."

Maren laughed. "It'll come to you, eventually. There's no rush."

"Hopefully I won't freeze over another kingdom or awaken any more spirits in the meantime." She smiled again. Her sense of humor, Maren noticed, was either acid and cunning or self-deprecating.

"Good things came out of it, both times." Maren didn't have the whole of the story, hadn't asked Elsa for her version yet, but she knew enough to make educated guesses. "You exposed a horrible man. Saved your sister from a bad marriage and helped her meet the love of her life. Bonded with her. And then you helped us get rid of that dam monstrosity. Set us free again, in balance with the spirits."

"When you put it like that, I almost sound like I knew what I was doing."

"No one ever does." Maren saw her relax, brushed their fingers together again. "I'm glad I got to meet you."

Elsa half-turned to her, and this time the lazy smile and half-lidded eyes painted a picture that was almost sly. Maren reconsidered her previous assumption. Perhaps the message had gotten through. "I'm glad I met you, too. You've been kind. I'm grateful that you're so welcoming." She scrunched her face. "That's enough feelings for today, I think."

"That's – not how it works. Not how any of this works."

Elsa laughed, unexpectedly, and Maren found herself beaming in return, warmth rushing to her cheeks. "It'll work how I want it to work." She raised her index finger. "Beat me to the coast, and I'll allow myself one more feeling. Only one."

"It'll be the feeling of your crushing defeat," Maren jumped to her feet. "Hey! No ice powers! That's cheating!"

Maren couldn't keep the smile off her face when as she climbed down the rock. By the time her feet touched the ground, Elsa was already long gone.

What am I getting myself into? She wondered for the hundredth time.

And then she broke into a run for the coast.