Frolick flitted his fingers together. He was jittery, excited, and beside himself in anticipation.

Today was the first day of classes at Everwinter. The place where he never thought he'd fit in. The place of Frost's dreams turned out to also be an avenue for Frolick to pursue his most passionate hobby — camouflage.

Having a good camo was right useful when observing animals in nature. If they didn't know you were there, they were more likely to allow you to move freely. A lot of animals became scared when humans were nearby, even if they were Animal Speakers.

Even when humans did approach, most animals he talked with said they much preferred humans wearing more natural garb. In truth, camouflage wasn't only about hiding as much as it was about fitting in. If a caribou saw a man wearing a cloth uniform or an iron cuirass or worse, frost plate, it tended to run away. But if it saw a man wearing leaves, mud, and branches, who came speaking its own language — well, that was an altogether different proposition.

The problem, as Frolick saw it, was that such outwear often took time to create, and it was messy to take off. He'd done it hundreds of times, of course, so much so that he had proper camouflage down to a science. But sometimes, there was no mud nearby. Sometimes branches and leaves didn't stick properly. Sometimes, he could barely keep his camo on his body.

But today would change that.

Today, he would learn how to weave his own clothes. After learning such a trade, he'd be in a position to create his own camouflage suits that mimicked the natural world. He'd blend in, one with nature, befriending animals of all kids. And of course, when necessary, he would use it to save Frostilicus from certain death. As he always seemed to do.

Frolick was the first one seated in Textiles class. He arrived an entire hour before the class begun simply so he could be sure not to be late. He'd spent the entire night in anticipation.

This class could revolutionize his entire approach to life—if he could learn how to weave, to process fabrics, to harvest cotton and silk, and wool. Well, then he could create the most elaborate and effective camouflage known to mankind.

As he waited impatiently as ever, his eyes scanned the room. The walls of the class were lined with many different types of textiles. Fine rainbow-colored sashes that flowed like the sun, blankets of woven yarn soft enough for the sweetest baby, and tunics of fitted fabric rugged enough for a soldier or a farmer.

Then there we also the machines. Five, these Frosthavenites had machines by the wagonload.

The room was full of intricately designed mechanical tools that had string woven around them. He didn't quite know what to make of all of them, but he supposed they were there to make the textile production much more efficient. Judging by the sturdy dress of most of the denizens of the Northern Reach, he supposed they produced quite a lot.

This place, Frolick thought to himself. This place was exactly where he needed to be. Five, why didn't they teach this sort of thing in Capscatia? They had basic fabric production but not something like this. Five, what could he learn in a place like this?

The door to the room opened. A short, portly man walked into the room. He didn't wear the usual Master's robes but had a more rugged-looking tunic. The man carried in his arms an enormous bundle of straw. It was bound together at the midsection by a thin rope.

"Oh," he said, his eyes darting toward Frolick. "I didn't expect anyone in quite early. Please, help me carry this in."

Frolick scratched his head as he stood up and walked toward the man. He extended his arms, grasping onto the other side of the bundle. It was light brown and smelled like a farm. The straw didn't feel that heavy. Frolick wasn't sure if it was because of its weight or because the professor was remarkably strong for a man his size.

"Over here is fine," the man said, guiding Frolick toward the front of the room and setting the straw down. His breathing was slightly elevated as he spoke. "My name is Master Clive, by the way."

"Frolick Shatterblade," Frolick. responded.

Several other students were beginning to make their way into the room. Alex and Prisma were among them.

"Pleased to meet you, Frolick," Clive said. "You are the Animal Speaker I have heard of. I'm sure you will enjoy this class. It is very hands-on and practical."

Frolick nodded his head. "Very much so. I can't wait to make —"

"Many students have learned to break in their frost powers through textiles," Clive said. "A useful class indeed."

"Break in?" Frolick said, tilting his head to one said.

"Indeed," Clive said. "Have you never heard the term?"

Frolick shook his head.

"Why," Clive said. "It means to learn to frost form—to use the magic. Most people have some ability to frost form, even in very small ways. Not everyone can do what Quartus or Alderton can, but most people do small things that aren't always noticeable. But in order to properly access one's powers, one needs to master a craft."

"Interesting," Frolick said. "So that's why there are so many craft classes at Everwinter."

"Well," Clive said. "That's not the only reason. Work builds character. It forms people into solid, moral adults in ways that teaching theory cannot. But yes, through our work, if it is done very well with keen attention to detail and a sense of service to others, one can access the divine."

"That sounds," Frolick raised an eyebrow. "Great." He smiled widely.

"It better be, or I'm wasting my time with you scamps." Clive turned around to look at the class. "Looks like we have a full class now. Time to get started." His voice was low and raspy.

Excellent, Frolick thought to himself. He made his way back to his seat and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. What would they learn first, he wondered? Perhaps to make a shirt of fine cloth or to use one of those fancy machines to weave fabrics out of cotton. It was all quite advanced stuff, and he couldn't wait to get started.

"First," Clive said, adjusting his spectacles. "I want everyone to come up and take an armful of straw." He eyed the bundle now at the front of the room.

Straw? What could they possibly be doing with straw? This was a textiles course.

"Today," Clive said. "We are going to learn the most ancient form of production. To understand a craft, you must understand its history, where it came from, the nature of its being."

Frolick looked around, wondering what it could possibly be gained from working with a bundle of straw. Other than feeding animals, of course.

"Today," Clive said, pausing for effect. "We begin our course with a lesson on basket weaving."