Frolick had returned and was briefed on the events in the Flintlock camp. He'd come with Molly, pulling a sled full of bear meat. The travelers happily feasted on the food, though a few complained there was something unusual about it. That didn't stop them from eating it, given how hungry everyone was.

And there was plenty of food to go around.

According to Quartus, they were less than a day's hike from the real Hailstone Keep, but the group preferred not to travel at night. Instead, they created a makeshift camp and took the downtime to eat. For many of the group, it had been over a week since their last proper meal.

As they cooked, the campfire flickered, lights dancing along the silhouette of pine trees set against the backdrop of a starry night sky. The sound of the crying child pierced through the silence of the night. The travelers took turns trying to soothe the newborn, but the baby was inconsolable.

"Do you miss being a dad?" Frost asked playfully. The child's cries rang through his ears.

Frolick crossed his arms. "Now that ain't funny, Frost. That child just lost both his parents."

"I know, I know," Frost said, palms outward.

"Besides, I'd be a great father," Frolick said. "Being one with nature is a big help in raising children."

"You?" Frost said skeptically.

"I certainly would," Frolick said. "Just not yet. First, I need to meet me a lovely lady."

"Speaking of which," Frost said. "I'm surprised we haven't yet heard back from Alta."

Frolick's lips formed a line. "I still am flabbergasted by what you described. I cannot believe she took out the entire Flintlock army by herself. I do admire that kind of strength in a woman."

"She certainly left her mark," Frost said.

"I wouldn't have believed you for one second," Frolick said. "Except I could hear the blasts from miles away. Shook the tree branches it did. Whatever it is they had in those powder kegs is strong stuff."

"Was strong stuff," Frost corrected.

"Right you are," Frolick said. "And I say good riddance. Happy to have the Flintlock off our backs. They got what was coming to them they did."

"That's what I said," Frost said, snapping back his head. "They've killed enough good people that I don't feel bad about their army being wiped out."

"Well," Frolick said, lowering his voice to a whisper. They were out of earshot from the other travelers. "I'll give you that. Strange what Quartus told you, though. Do you reckon the frost mages are pacifists? I've heard of these newfangled philosophies. Maybe they're into one of them?"

Frost stroked his chin. "I don't know. It's bizarre. But I highly doubt an ancient order of frost mages would be into anything that's newfangled."

Frolick nodded. "Now, I'm not opposed to decreasing bloodshed and all, but the Flintlock are pretty much the definition of pure evil."

"Hey," Frost said, throwing up his hands. "I agree with you. They got what's coming to them. What I don't understand is why the frost mages didn't act sooner. If Quartus really did form an entire city out of river water, think of what they could have done earlier on?"

"Well," Frolick said, pausing to ponder the point. He looked up at the sky and then at Molly. She was fast asleep but was still covered in twigs and branches. "Perhaps it was set up as camo."

"What?" Frost said, furrowing his brows.

"You know, to trick them into thinking they had won," Frolick said.

"Hmmm," Frost said. "That's not exactly how camo works. Camouflage makes others think you're not there."

"Same general idea," Frolick said. "Point is it's a ruse."

Frost rolled his eyes. He understood what Frolick was getting at. Even if it didn't make sense.

"Why don't we just ask Quartus?" Frolick said.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now," Frost said, shrugging. "He seems to be really upset by the whole thing."

"You just Fivin' saved his life," Frolick said. "The least he could do is tell you why he didn't act sooner to save people's lives. Hey, Quartus." His voice rose to a shout as he called for the wizened old man.

Frost only shook his head. It was just like Frolick to go meddling in other people's business. Why couldn't he just keep his trap shut?

Quartus jerked his head. He had been taking his turn trying to soothe the child, who was now partially asleep in the old man's arms. He had been rocking his body back and forth, but as he turned to look in response to Frolick's obnoxiously loud shout, the child snapped awake and burst out in a piercing cry.

"Oops," Frolick said squeamishly. "Sorry."

"Well," Quartus said, shaking his head. "You went and woke him, so now it's your turn to try."

"But—" Frolick said in protest.

Quartus handed him the now bawling babe.

"Back to square one?" Frost said, smiling. "Dad."

"What is it you wanted anyway?" Quartus asked.

Frolick's mouth scrunched, and his eyes widened. "Oh, that?" he said. "Never mind." The question was no longer important. Not in comparison to the immediate need of trying to soothe the screaming newborn. That pretty much became his top priority as soon as he held the child.

The little baby boy was so small. So helpless. And yet Frolick felt an inexorable urge to do everything to help the little one. To calm him down. To make him feel comfortable and loved.

He tried rocking his body in the same manner Quartus had used, shifting his weight from his back to his front foot. No use. He tried shushing the child to sleep. Also no use. He even tried singing a lullaby, one his own mother had used for so many years. But nothing worked.

The child's mouth erupted in a cacophony of screams and wails, the likes of which Frost and Frolick had never heard in their lives.

Frolick's heart beat rapidly as he searched for a way to calm down the crying baby. He immediately had a new appreciation for the sleepless nights his parents must have gone through raising three children.

Maybe Frost was right to be skeptical. Being a highly skilled Animal Speaker was completely useless when it came to child-rearing. He pondered that thought for a moment.

But then again. Maybe it wasn't?

Suddenly, an idea shot through his mind. Of course. Frolick glanced at Molly. She slumbered peacefully, snores working their way through her outstretched trunk, her body lying limp on her side, udders exposed.

Milk.

That was it. The child was screaming for milk.

Frolick quickly raced over to Molly's side, picking up a bucket in one arm while holding the child in the other. Dropping the bucket, he drew milk from Molly's udders, squeezing a pint of the nutritious liquid into the cold metal container.

The milk was warm to the touch. Good.

As the child screamed and thrashed in his arms, Frolick slowly and gently poured the warm liquid into the babe's mouth. The newborn lapped it down quickly, gulping loudly as he drank.

The crying immediately stopped and was replaced by the hungry gulps of a child who probably hadn't eaten in days. As far as Frolick was concerned, the sound was music to his ears.

The group of travelers gathered around, eyes wide in admiration as they watched Frolick quietly and gently give the hungry baby exactly what he needed.

Frost watched from the side, lips curling upward. Perhaps he had been wrong to doubt Frolick? His little brother would be an excellent father. Apparently, closeness to the natural world was very helpful when it came to parenting.

And so was having a woolly mammoth with a gargantuan supply of warm milk.

Gulp, gulp, gulp.