The silvery compass glowed with a gentle light, pulling Ingrid deeper into the frozen lands. She munched on her magical bread, which tasted like toasted nuts and warm sunshine, and felt her strength grow with every bite. The moon peeped through the clouds, as if it wanted to join in the fun, painting the snow with silver streaks. Soon, she came to the edge of a vast, silent ravine, deeper than a hundred tall trees. And there, stretching across the dizzying chasm, was the most extraordinary bridge she had ever seen.
It was made entirely of frozen moonlight, shimmering with all the colors of a winter rainbow, yet so thin it looked like a spider's web woven from starlight. The old women's voices seemed to whisper in her ears, 'Wisk, wisk, wisk,' like the leaves of enchanted trees, warning her: 'This is the Ice Bridge! It will crack and crumble if you show even the tiniest flicker of fear!'
Ingrid's heart fluttered like a trapped bird. Her tummy felt wobbly, and her hands, even beneath the magical cloak, felt chilly. She looked down, down, down into the inky blackness below, and a shiver ran right down to her toes. For a moment, she thought she couldn't do it. The bridge seemed to sway, and she heard a faint, tiny crack, like a twig snapping far away.