Larksong Grotto Warflower

Cameo!

The frigid air of the taiga was cruel and unrelenting. The cold drew the heat away from his body, and the wind stole it away. His cries had faltered. Not for any lack of pain, but the air stung his very lungs each time his tried.

The boy was limp. His only movements being the shiver that tremored throughout his entire body. His body's attempt to avoid freezing. The march of time was a cruel one. Each minute longer than the lost, the boy did not understand why they kept going. Too young to understand that there was still a future ahead.

The march ends. His stomach lurches with the shift of air, he is falling! Morwenna catches herself. A weak mewl and bob of his head indicated his awareness. Limited as it was. Set once more upon the ground, his weight is upon his leg again. Feebly, he whimpers into the air.