Snow fell all through the night and into the morning, silently drifting this way and that. Breathing deeply, a young mouse strolled through the white forest. Frostic was Siegfried’s destination, but he was still quite far away, so he decided to think about things other than the perils of being a tenderpaw of the Guard. He wondered if his two friends, Sedgewick and Markus, had gotten to the outpost yet. They probably made a mad dash to see who would get there first. He didn’t care when he got there. There was no rush. He’ll get there when he gets there. The snow crunched softly under his paws, distracting him from his train of thought.
“I like that sound,” he said to himself, “you never hear that in Lockhaven. Just the creak of old wood and the clang of the blacksmith making weapons.” He soon stopped to have a quick bite of bread. Just a nice, warm snack on the road. While he ate, he took his map out and traced the trail he would use to
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