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A Tale of Frost, Ch 1 pt 2

(my writing might be a little different, I seem to be aging a bit too fast)

As Frost, now an ice wolf, raced past the camp that had held him back for so long, his yearning to stay like this increased. To hunt, to be one with the wild, to be something feared and respected. To just leave the problems of society.

Frost skidded to a stop before tumbling over a hill, shifting back from wolf to human. His heart crashed against his rib cage, his head throbbing.

He couldn’t let the amulet take control.

Steadying himself, Frost patted his pockets for his journal, pencil, and flint. He flipped through his journal, the smell of leather and dust making it all the more pleasant to view the stories he had made and recorded.

What had spiked his interest, though, were myths of other story tellers, trapped in a strange world and only able to tell their tales through fires of extraordinary color.

Frost yawned, stretched, and lay himself down on a soft patch of grass.

Tales.

Nothing more but stories of the fantastical.

—————

Hope you guys had a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Sorry about the short second part, and the gap in between, I’ve been busy lately. My writing has changed for better or for worse, I hope it’s not too much of a problem. Enjoy the story.

- Frost

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