Daniel grew up a small person in a world of big people. Even when he stopped growing up, at six foot and an inch he was barely ankle-high to his foster parents and brothers and sisters and aunts.
It had made him quick. The giants weren’t cruel, but they were clumsy; when you felt the cold shadow of your uncle’s falling foot, you moved. Or you didn’t, ever.
When he ran down the valley for his human food, past the small fir tree he’d been left under as a newborn, Daniel’s speed kept him warm between the walls of ice.