
Crossing the frost line
Far enough from the young star, it grew cold enough for water to freeze onto dust. Ice is sticky. Where bare grains only bounced, frosted ones clung and held. You crossed that line and began to gather frosted dust faster than ever, a snowball rolling through a snowfield that never ends.

A rain of pebbles
The disk's gas blew a gentle, constant headwind, and it nudged a steady stream of pebbles your way. This is pebble accretion, and it is shockingly efficient. You did not have to chase anything. You simply held your place, and the universe delivered itself onto your back, one small stone at a time.