Stepping out of the warm glow of the ice rink, Brynhild shivered as the cool night air bit at her cheeks. The playful energy of the rink lingered, a pleasant warmth radiating from within. But that warmth was instantly eclipsed by a chill of a different kind.
A young man, his face flushed with what Brynhild suspected was more than just exertion, sidled up to her, a leering grin plastered across his face.
"Hey there, beautiful," he slurred, his voice thick with what sounded like cheap beer. "Having a good time?"
Brynhild's smile evaporated. The carefree joy of the evening was replaced by a cold, steely glint in her eyes. Before she could utter a withering retort, a presence vanished from beside her. She whirled around, searching for Orpheus, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach.
He was gone.
