//------------------------------//
// Though the Frost was Cruel... 
// Story: The Polar Express Remastered 
// by The Blue EM2 
//------------------------------//

Cozy took a glance at it. "That could be a problem. If he asks for  her ticket and she doesn't have it, he could throw her off at the next stop?"

"Why?" Sandbar asked. "He checked it earlier."

But there was no time to loose. I picket the ticket up and headed for the rear of the train.

I reached the door to the car and adjusted my shoes. I then slid the door open, and glanced out. Wait, what? The vestibule's gone! I thought. There was no vestibule where I had boarded several hours earlier. There was simply an open space in front of me, the coupler below as the only stepping point, and the door to the rear carriage in front. The platforms were also extremely slippery below my feet, so I had to watch my footing. The wind whistled and roared like an angry demon of the night, intent on ripping me off the train and into the cold night sky. But I had to press on. I gripped that ticket like my life depended on it, and prepared to jump. But then something terrible happened. I lost my grip on the ticket.

It was blown away and into the night sky, before getting wedged in one of the carriage windows. I went back indoors to open the window, but as soon as I opened it the ticket was sucked away, into the night.

"Nooooo!" I cried, before suddenly hearing a voice behind me.

"Is something wrong?" asked Silverstream, whom I turned around to face. "You look worried."

"You forgot your ticket," I mumbled. "I tried to get it to you and the wind blew it away from my hand." I reached into my pocket. "You can have mine, if that helps-"

"Tickets on the Polar Express are strictly none-transferable," the Conductor said. "Silverstream, I'm afraid you'll have to come with me."

Silverstream hung her head sadly, but seemed to show no malice or anger. "It's OK, Ocellus," she said. "You were only trying to help."

Terramar, however, was considerably less positive. "Yeah, thanks a lot. Now Silverstream's gonna get thrown off the train."

I sat down and said nothing. It was true. In only trying to help, I had simply made the problem worse. I buried my head in my hands, wishing I could take her place. Nobody deserved to be dumped in the middle of nowhere by a train, especially as a consequence of my own stupidity. Why hadn't I put it in a zip pocket?

As I sat there, stuck in my own thoughts, I suddenly heard a wheeshing noise from the ventilator vent. I glanced over to my side to suddenly see Silverstream's ticket drift over and land in her seat. Or, rather, where she would be sitting had I not made a mess of things.

I went over to it and picket it up. Despite having been flown through the air and apparently landed in some snow, it was undamaged, and could still be handled. I was quick to seal it up in a zip pocket.

"I have to get the ticket to her!" I said.

Just then, a girl with orange skin and purple short hair got up, currently clad in jeans and a light yellow shirt combined with an orange hoodie and boots, got up. "I'm coming with you," she said. "It's way too cold to head out dressed like that, so you can borrow some of my thermal clothing if you'd like."

One addition of some thermal leggings and a thicker coat later, and I was ready to go. The girl (who told me her name was Smoulder) joined me in crossing over the car, our new boots able to cross over the gap with relative ease. We then walked through the carriage. The boy looked up at us. "Hello?" he asked.

"Did you see the Conductor and a girl pass this way?" I asked.

"They went onto the roof," the boy replied. "Climbed up top via the ladder at the back."

"No doubt the ladder will be very slippery," Smoulder said. "I'm no expert on trains, but aren't there supposed to be clearances and stuff?"

"Yes," I said. "If there are any tunnels, they'll get splattered. Let's go!"

Setting off, we opened the door to the rear platform, and climbed up the ladder. True to Smoulder's estimates, it was slippery, but thankfully we were able to maintain grip (and my gloves prevented my hands from freezing on the ladder). Once upon the top of the train, we stepped across the masses of shifting snow and slippery metal. I could see shapes moving in the distance, whom I presumed to be the conductor and Silverstream.

"HELLO?" I called, as loud as I could. "I HAVE YOUR TICKET!"

There was no response.

"HELLO?" I called out again, though again as loud as I could. "I HAVE YOUR TICKET!"

"There's no point," Smoulder said. "They can't hear us from this range. Not to mention the wind will tear away our words."

As we made our way forward, we happened across an odd campfire. Sat in front of the campfire was an odd fellow. He looked to be an old man, with grey skin, red eyes with yellow eyeballs, and patchwork black and grey hair. He wore a brown suit that looked far too light to be worn in this weather, and no gloves. He was currently singing a Christmas carol, though oddly only the bass part.

"Once in royal David's city
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her Baby
In a manger for His bed:
Mary was that mother mild-"

He stopped when he saw us.

"Jesus Christ her little Child," I finished, about two octaves higher.

"Do you normally sing in SATB harmony on the first verse?" Smoulder asked.

"It's not convention," I replied.

"I say, how can I help you?" the man asked. "I am Discord, a wayward wandering soul who enjoys travelling on the rooves of trains. And how about you two?"

"We're looking for a girl and a man," I replied. "They came this way?"

Discord thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. In a moment, he was right next to us. "A girl and a man, you say!" he said, with a tone rather too jovial to be sincere. "Of course! One such pair went that way, towards the engine and I haven't seen them since."

It was then my mind decided to ask the obvious question. "Is any of this real?"

"Is any of what real?" Discord asked in return.

"This train, travelling to the North Pole, you-" I stopped myself when I realised what I'd said.

Discord looked at me, surprised at my apparent doubt. "I am most certainly real, as are the train and this journey. Pinch yourself for confirmation."

I did as instructed. There was pain, alright. "OK, I'm not dreaming," I said. "This is all real!"

"Indeed," said Discord, as a pair of skis suddenly materialised under his boots. "But we shall have to hurry if we want to catch up with your friend. See that gradient up ahead?"

"Yes," Smoulder said. "The very steep one?"

"The same," Discord replied. "At the top of that gradient, the line goes downhill at 4% for 5 miles, eventually reaching a tunnel. There is only one inch of clearance between the tunnel and the top of the engine's cab. I don't think I need to explain why we need to get going."

We hopped on his skis, in front of him, and he pushed off on the snow, which was starting to slide off as our car entered the grade. The train seemed to climb almost to the roof of the sky. But then it began its descent. The fierce gradient allowed us to speed up towards the bottom.

"The best part about a hill is the other side!" Discord called. "You can go down the other side, a lot faster than the speed you went up the first part!"

As we skimmed down at daredevil speed, we jumped car after car. Per Pharynx's word, the train had gained several extra cars since we had climbed on the top, meaning that the front of the train now seemed an infinite distance away from us. We zoomed along as fast as we could, but the front was now in reach of our skis!

But trouble loomed ahead. Up ahead, we could see the roof of the tunnel portal. The engine sounded some sort of warning sequence on the whistle.

"Here we go!" Discord shouted. "It was nice knowing you, but I must take my leave! Cheerio!"

Suddenly, he vanished, and we were hurled forward, off the skies, and into the tender. We fell straight through the coal, through an infinite pile of blackness and dark light, before spilling out of the other side, into the engine's cab. My eyes lit up in surprise at who was sitting at the controls.