Abe wandered down the path thick with frost on his morning walk to the woods. He avoided people whenever possible. It wasn’t hard when you lived in a two-bit backwater town where livestock outnumbered the people. Nothing stopped them from attempting to lure him into small talk about the weather, though. 

Ahead, weaving between the barren trees, Pip stopped, ears cocked. She sniffed the air once, let out a yip, and darted forward. Hesitated once to be sure he was still following. Abe plodded on until the telltale noise of cracking ice echoed around him, followed by Pip’s sharp frantic barks.

Was somebody on the pond? Abe broke into a run and burst out into the clearing. Pip was at the frigid water’s edge, still calling out her warning, and scrambling for balance on a tipping piece of ice was a boy. Damn Fool. Probably wanted to brag about skating before heading to school. 

Abe kicked off his boots and, despite Pip’s whining, hurried in to help. His breath caught when the arctic waters hit his skin, and he forced himself to suck in air. The boy’s lips were blue by the time Abe reached him. He dragged the boy back to shore and was surprised to hear sirens drawing closer. Abe rubbed the boy’s limbs, ignoring the numbness in his own fingers until help arrived. A medic handed him a blanket, and he grunted his thanks. Accepted the coffee and didn’t argue when they offered him a lift home.

Word: frost | Action: cracking