The Trolls held Donner down to keep him from thrashing around. Donner snorted and grunted in protest, but one of the Trolls whispered close to his face to calm him. Mark panted heavily trying to relax as the healers moved closer to look over the arrows in his shoulder and leg. One inched his leg up, causing Mark to whine and Donner to kick a little. The older healer looked to her assistant telling him softly. "The tip is in Donner, but the rest is in Mark. I'll hold his leg. You detach the arrowhead from Donner to separate them." The younger healer by his shoulder looked over the arrow in his arm, telling his assistant calmly. "It's in too far to pull out safely... We'll have to push it through." Looking back at the young healer, Mark blurted out. "What?! Just rip it out!" The older healer by his leg, cut in to say firmly. "Don't. The arrow tip is triangular. Just let it cut through. To pull it out when it is so far in could remove muscle with it." Mark groaned, then watched the older healer hold his leg while her assistant leaned in to cut the skin of Donner to let the arrow tip slide out. Donner panted hard and trembled beneath him with squealing whines.

Mark pet him, trying to calm him. When the arrow tip came out, the older healer told the other Trolls holding Donner coolly. "Alright. Now coax Donner away." The Trolls pulled on Donner's antlers and pulled out food that distracted him instantly. Rolling to his feet, Donner moved away to stand by the wall. They then fed him, while the Healers hopped up onto the shoulders of others to finish working on Donner's wounds. Mark groaned as the other Healers closed in on him. Holding him still, they carefully cut the feather ends off the arrows. The female Troll by his face, stroked his cheek, telling him sweetly. "You are so brave, honey. Look at me." Mark looked at her and she cupped his face in her small warm hands. She smiled at him with her crooked teeth and big brown eyes over her large nose. He smiled in return, fixing her Holly hair pin by one of her long ears. Inhaling deeply, he asked anxiously. "Is that new?" She blushed, pulling her frizzy and bushy brown hair over her tiny shoulder, chuckling out. "Yes. With all the snow, I had to change my flower. I'm getting better at controlling Earth elements. Don't you think?" Mark nodded, then tensed up with a distressed yell as the others yanked out the arrows at the same time.

Just as he stopped seeing spots from the pain, the leaves on the trees began to shake. The Trolls all stilled, looking up at the treetops. Above the trees, a faint scream rang out. Grand Pabbie dropped his hands, gasping out in horror. "Oh, no...? It begins..." Mark followed his eyes to a spot where snow was starting to swirl into a ball. It swelled and grew in size, until Mark could faintly see what was happening. Snow was attaching and molding to Aputsiaq, until she had grown twice her size and was still growing by the second! As she stretched out her longer limbs, she snarled and shook the frost off her smooth icy body. Grand Pabbie backed up, waving for the other Trolls to move in closer around Mark. Aputsiaq's snarling grew deeper and far more frightening. One of the young Trolls inched forward, asking curiously. "What is that?" Grand Pabbie placed a hand on the young Trolls shoulder, telling her in a trembling voice. "Stay back, my dear. It's not safe. It's a dragon..." The young Troll looked at Grand Pabbie, tilting her head when she asked. "A Dragon? What's that? Why are you so scared?" Grand Pabbie didn't answer, but Mark could see the fear in his eyes.

A few older Trolls behind Mark stammered out. "That's not possible... They are extinct! The humans killed them! Grand Pabbie...?!" Mark watched Aputsiaq grow so large that her body hit the trees and uprooted them. Her large claws grabbed the trunks of the large trees like the handle of a tankard, her weight forcing them to fall as she pushed them down with little effort. The Trolls stumbled and fell as the heavy trees crunched to the ground, causing the ground to bounce and shake. Mark shifted himself onto all fours, pulling the Trolls that he could beneath him as snow puffed across the ground like ocean waves! The snow from the surrounding trees were shook from the branches, forcing Grand Pabbie to yell out in fright. "QUICK! BACK TO THE MOUNTAIN!" Mark whistled to get Donner's attention. Donner moved closer allowing the Trolls to rapidly climb up onto him. Mark helped a few get on Donner, then turned to Grand Pabbie and told him. "Take him and go!" Grand Pabbie shook his head, looking at Mark's hurt leg and Donner's wound. Mark didn't wait for him. He grabbed him and put him on Donner. Grand Pabbie shook his head, yelling out. "NO! Mark! You won't make it! Donner can't hold you!"

Mark swallowed, answering reluctantly. "I know." Pushing Donner to turn around, he smacked Donner's ass to get him into a run before Grand Pabbie could stop him. Mark then quickly limped over to the nearest tree and removed his rope to wrap around it. Tying the rope tight, he tied his belt to it and pressed himself against the tree. He could feel the ball of snow building up quicker now and he didn't know what would happen when it stopped. If he was going to get buried, he wanted to know what direction was up and this tree was rooted deep by the rock wall. It had a chance of staying upright as long as she didn't hit it. Putting the tree between himself and Aputsiaq, he removed his hand pickaxe and pulled his bandana over his nose before reducing himself to wait. The cold wind grew loud, then suddenly everything went silent for only a moment, before a frightening roar deafened the area. The trees vibrated and thunder rumbled before a wall of snow burst through the trees! Mark screamed as the snow cut across his skin like the sharp edge of a blade, forcing him to hide behind the tree as best that he could. The snow rose around him burying him against the tree. The more packed the snow became; the more sound was muffled.

He felt the ground tremble and the faint crunching of more trees as something hit them nearby. He wondered if it was her tail that had slammed into the tree beside his, causing it to fall rather brutally to the ground. It had not landed like the others. All Mark could do was wait and keep his breathing steady. As cold and as hurt as he was, he wasn't ready to give up just yet. Gripping the rope tight, he shuddered out with worry. "Nathan..." Licking his dry lips, Mark forced himself to start moving. Using the little pickaxe, he stabbed it into the tree and started to dig his way up, using the tree to help him get leverage. The process was slow, but the trick was to just keep calm and make slow progress. His whole body was shivering, but he used it as a means to keep himself moving. If he stopped, he'd lose his body heat. When his pickaxe finally dug up past the surface, he tried to clear the snow above him. Then reaching blindly up, he grabbed a tree branch and used it to pull himself up and out. Laying over the branch, his whole body shivered, but he was out. It took a bit to convince himself to adjust on the branch to sit on it. Hugging his chest, he tried to bring his body temperature up. He wasn't sure that he was going to make it, until he heard something pattering across the deep snow.

Mark lazily looked to see Grand Pabbie jogging over the surface toward him. Trolls were so small and light, but their feet were long and wide enough to track over surfaces like snow quickly like a natural set of snowshoes. Reaching him, Grand Pabbie huffed out in relief. "Oh, thank goodness. You don't always ignore my advice. You stubborn goat... You're grounded!" Mark chuckled very weakly from the cold, but Grand Pabbie patted his leg telling him sweetly. "Hang on, kid. We'll get you down from here. We'll get you home." Inching closer, Grand Pabbie rubbed his hands together and when they turned a soft red, he pressed them to Mark's clothes. Mark's clothes puffed with steam as his clothes warmed and dried from the melted snow. Mark inhaled deeply from the growing warmth within his clothes. Tilting his head back, Mark asked him hopefully. "Donner? The others?" Grand Pabbie shushed him but told him happily. "Safe. Now let us save you, my son." Mark nodded, then found himself drifting off a bit. The effort to dig himself out had taxed a lot from him and the growing warmth felt so good on his wounded shoulder and leg.

When he woke, he was laying around a campfire back up on the Troll's Mountain. His wounds had been tended too and he was covered in his blanket. Sitting up, a little Troll offered him soup and he accepted it, then asked her curiously. "Where is Grand Pabbie?" She pointed to the edge of the mountain where Grand Pabbie often napped or meditated. Getting to his feet, he limped over. Grand Pabbie was huddled against his staff, staring out at the horizon with a tense and troubled look. As he approached, Grand Pabbie told him without looking back. "I saw this... The storm. But... a dragon...? What have we done...? Was it worth it? I think not." Mark raised an eyebrow, questioning him gently. "What do you mean?" Grand Pabbie sighed heavily, then turned to face him with fragile eyes. Gesturing him to sit, Grand Pabbie stated cautiously. "Please? Sit. I need to tell you something." Mark obeyed, bundling himself in the blanket more and sipping the soup. Grand Pabbie then stood before him to regal grimly. "Mark... I'm afraid that I lied to you." Mark lowered the bowl from his lips but said nothing. Grand Pabbie pulled up a rock and sat down, before reluctantly informing him. "I made a terrible mistake... I let my anger toward humans and what they've done to us in the past blind me. I passed that hatred to my son... and this winter is my fault."

Grand Pabbie paused a moment, then told him softly. "I think in order for you to understand. I must go back to the beginning. See. Long ago, Arendelle and Misthaven all belonged to the Trolls. We protected the secrets of Ahtohallan. The birthplace of magic. We tricked and scared others away. Some might say we hoarded it... but magic wasn't designed to be hoarded. It was meant to be shared. Lady Borealis is a beacon. Others came. Lady Borealis taught them the old ways. The harmonies of magic. From the Northuldra, came the first shaman. A wizard. A shapeshifter. They called him the Spirit of the Enchanted Forest. He was the first human to master the five elements. Earth. Air. Fire. Water, and Spirit. He taught magic to the other Northuldra, and we became jealous. For in all the years that we had protected Ahtohallan... We had been unable to learn magic. So... we played tricks on them. Stole children and hid among them to try and learn the secrets." Grand Pabbie shook his head, continuing without looking at him. "We were afraid. More humans came. The Northuldra tried to make a truce with Arendelle. The King of the Trolls at that time ended it. Disguising himself as an advisor, he told Nathan's Grandfather that the Northuldra were dangerous. That they planned to destroy Arendelle with their magic."

Grand Pabbie inhaled deeply, then blurted out. "The king believed him and went to war with them. Then under a white flag of truce to end the war... Nathan's grandfather got the Shaman alone... and he killed him. Killing him made something happen though... A power surged forth and a strange fog engulfed Misthaven. Nothing goes in or out anymore. Many lives were lost in the battle. However, enough of Arendelle survived and thrived anew. In my own youth, I blamed humans for the old ways being destroyed without understanding that WE started it. That we tricked them into going to war." Grand Pabbie reached up to touch his colorful crystals, finally looking at him to say solemnly. "In our rebellion we stole magic. There are so few Trolls left... I sought to use magic to chase the humans from Arendelle. My plan involved using YOU." Mark tensed up, prompting Grand Pabbie to tell him quickly. "You are a Northuldran. My plan was to have Nathan's father adopt you. Then have you usurp the throne. It was my hope to scare them away. That way we could go about reclaiming our land... but I had a change of heart." Mark shrugged, asking softly. "What changed your mind?" Grand Pabbie grinned, then told him sweetly. "You did. It's hard to hate humans... when I was raising one. Seeing how they treated you. Yet, you never turned on us. You've always been one of us. My plan turned from usurping the throne. To wanting a better life for you."

Grand Pabbie exhaled heavily, grumbling out. "I never predicted the King and Queen dying before that. Nor did I see what Stig was becoming... His plan to use the River of Memory on the humans was... barbaric. It would only start another war." Mark finished his soup, then set the bowl aside to ask. "What is the River of Memory? What does it have to do with Nathan?" Grand Pabbie straightened up more, answering openly. "The River of Memory runs through an island glacier in the Dark Sea known as Ahtohallan. It's where the Northuldran Shaman went to learn magic from the lady of the Northern Lights. She brings the lost there to peer into her waters but only briefly. To look into the river reveals any answer you seek. However... stare too long into the river and you'll drown within the horrors of your past. Until you are no longer yourself... but the mirror version of you. The dark side of yourself that is never satisfied. You become heartless. Blinded by obsessions and desires you held deep within yourself. Stig's plan was to turn a mirror on all the humans. To turn them on themselves by revealing how ugly they are on the inside. Which would lead to Arendelle's destruction. But he dropped it... and poor Nathan is paying for it. His gifts are... unstable."

Mark thought about Nathan, before asking cautiously. "So, you're saying Nathan has become the mirror? That he's absorbed the power from Ahtohallan because he's Northuldran? That he sees the worst in people... except when it comes to me and Prince Hans." Mark opened his mouth to ask more, but Grand Pabbie cut him off to say a bit startled. "What? What do mean by that?" To Be Continued...