Chapter Eight: Stealth Mission:

Meanwhile, the Jack Frost army was on the move. They were all marching in a single file line. The lower-ranked soldiers grinned to themselves. They were already tasting the need for blood. Some of their fingers were twitching to pick up a snowball. One of them snickered.

“Shhh!” the others in front of him said. One of the soldiers turned around with a finger to their lips. The private went quiet. Meanwhile, the general marched forward.

The snow grew heavier. The flying flakes provided the perfect cover. Frosty wouldn’t know what hit them.

“How much further?” a lieutenant asked behind the general. The general waved him off without turning around.

March. March. March. March.

The fort wasn’t that far. The snow gave it the illusion that it was far away. The Jack Frost army didn’t care. Their anticipation was building. Were they even going in the right direction?

One soldier in the line looked around.

“Hey guys,” he said. There was no answer. The soldier took another look around.

“Guys!” he tried again.

“Shhh!” another soldier hissed in front of him.

“But…”

“Shhh!”

The soldier frowned as he took more one look around. How was he going to tell them that they were going around in a circle? Should he try and say something again? The soldier shrugged to himself.

Should he tell them? Should he tell them that they were going around in a circle—again? The soldier clenched his teeth. They wouldn’t let him talk. He turned his head forward.

Oh well. They’ll figure it out. Eventually…

He hoped…