Raven's Watch Dangling feet from window frame

Frost had barely begun to feel hope again when it was stolen from him, quick as the breath that fleed his lungs when he heard the brothers call. His mind raced with questions, the loudest of all being why? It wasn't a question he would ever ask to anyone. It was a question that would reside only in his own mind, for he knew such questions were often pointless. When decisions were made, they were often unwavering. Frost knew it was better to simply accept what transpired, and so he did.

There was little question in the young boy's mind about what he would do. Without Stjornuati, he saw little future for himself in the Wilds. He thought of Antha, wondered what path she would take. They both had saved him, both had brought him back to life. In the end, it wasn't really a question of logic, but of feeling. Stjor's path simply felt like the right one, so Frost would go.

Frost tilted his head back and offered his own soft voice to the wind to let them all know his decision. Then, he slipped off into the trees to seek the brothers whom he would follow, all the while pondering how fate was clearly a fickle creature when it came to drawing his destiny.