Geographic North Pole
Around 15 small bodies, no more than 3 1/2 feet tall, huddled around a large stalactite. These were the elusive shivers, ice-dwarves who controlled the polar icecaps. The greater their population, the larger the ice. But now, here they were, their numbers reduced to a mere 31 worldwide. One of the bodies rose.
“Brothers!” bellowed one of the North-pole shivers, their chief Sekkruta. “For years the Mud Men have beaten us back! Now, the icecaps are shrinking and so are we! Look at us now! Starving, weak, and warming up by the day! It has to be, what, -25 Fahrenheit in here! We must extend our reach and take back the world! Who’s with me?”
Then the others yelled an affirmative that shook their icicle beards. But a little one wasn’t so sure.
R&R please! This is only the beginning…
“Please, listen to me! I am not lying! I- I am not a spy!” pleaded a small boy, about 8 by human standards, to his audience. Foaly shook his head and trotted out of the room. He tapped a message to Holly, who was on the surface, on his elderly virtual keyboard: Come to Police Plaza. Bring the Mud Boy. Little discussion was needed as to which human was in question. Foaly flagged the message as urgent and sent it.
Holly’s helmet beeped. “Something from Foaly, I presume?” inquired Artemis. “Yes,” she replied tersely, and opened the equally terse correspondence.
“Refresh my mind as to how long it takes to travel to Haven.”
“Quit reading over my shoulder, Artemis!” The sly human smirked.
Soon, the two were standing in Foaly’s office with Commander Trouble Kelp. “What’s going on?” Holly demanded.
“No time for small talk?” answered the centaur. “This boy here claims to be a member of an unknown fairy species- these ice-dwarves. It could be just a prank, some dwarf kid who sprayed himself blue, but his body temperature is extremely low, and he spoke in another language.”
“Anything else?” said Trouble.
“Why don’t you let him talk.”
Inside the small interrogation room sat a fairy boy on a bench. He looked identical to a dwarf, save for the fact that his hair was made of a buzz cut of frost. A small puddle had formedbelow the bench, and Artemis immediately recognized why. He had been taciturn the whole time, but then spoke up. “Foaly, we need to relocate him to a colder room! Can’t you see that he’s melting?”