The cold air burned in his lungs and the snow became thicker against the earth as days turned to nights. Winter was coming in stronger every day, but Āzon was lucky enough to have been birthed and raised in the tundras – otherwise, the phoenix wouldn’t have been able to continue this journey in the first place. Moonspear and the Caldera down, his next stop was either Neverwinter or You….yue…..you-e-long….Whatever the fuck the pack was called. All the prince knew was that he needed to head down the coast and find an island.

Continuing with his brisk walk, Ignis would begin wincing and soon came to a stop as he noticed a cramp in his haunches. Well, it was not like he stopped to rest in a couple of hours anyhow, so that was on him. Thankfully, he was soon to stumble upon an open space in the fields and, with an exhausted sigh, settled neatly on his rump. The resting place should give Azon enough time to think about where he’d be going next – just as long as the cold snow didn’t make his ass grow numb…