Herbalists' Cache i'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in.

He was so weak. His once pristine, white pelt hung from his thin frame, yellowing and dirty from weeks of travel on his own. His limbs trembled as he walked, nearly dragging himself forward for each step. He was so tired, so hungry, and so miserable when he looked back at the unfortunate series of events that had lead him down this road.

Frost shut his eyes, pausing on the terrain to give himself a moment. He thought of his foolishness and his fear, letting the guilt and remorse wash over him for a few minutes. It was what he deserved for getting himself lost and separated from his family in the first place. He relived his recklessness in wandering away from his pack. He relived the moment the bear's roar shook his soul from his bones. He relived the chase, the river, the fall. The terror that had blinded him. The moment he'd awoken on an unfamiliar shore to look upon an unfamiliar forest, and all the unfamiliar lands he'd stumbled through since trying to find his way back home.

When he opened his eyes again, they were wet with tears. None fell--he'd lost too many over the past few weeks. Each time he thought himself numb to it, he paused to let the memories reopen the wound. Frost was not fool enough to think that to grow cold with his reality was an appropriate coping mechanism. He let the pain keep him alive, keep him going. He knew he'd hurt his family by getting himself lost. He wouldn't hurt them further by dying.

The boy was tired always, so he thought nothing of it when his legs gave out beneath him and he fell in a resigned heap on the forest floor. He blinked with dull golden eyes ahead at the winter trees, the pine needles blurring together into a mess of green, brown, and darker green before he shut them and let the world go dark.