The following morning, Seton prepared himself for the hunt. He filled a sack with some light food, flint, a skin full of melted snow to drink, a couple knives, some rope, a needle, some thread, and some stakes. He grabbed his bow, and a quiver full of arrows. Finally, he grabbed his ax. He kissed Nalia goodbye, bid Yidna luck with her skinning, and reported briefly to Rorun, who bid him luck on the hunt. When all was settled, he started his trek, departing from the village and moving steadily into the hills beyond.

Though the cold air cut through Seton's garments, he didn't flinch. Instead, he continued to survey the mountains and hills that surrounded him, searching for signs of the Frost King. All around him, tall hills bobbed up and down, with larger peaks farther off, looming over all beneath them. The clouds that passed overhead loomed all the more, gathering over the highest of peaks and darkening there. Under their shroud, the snowy blanket that covered the hills and the icy crowns of the mountaintops appeared a dull gray, rather than a pristine white. The fir trees that covered the hills and dotted the mountains appeared a darker green than normal, and swayed and groaned as they pushed back against the treacherous winds. Flecks of white were thrown up from the ground and from the trees, and even fell from the heavens themselves. As the winds began to rage all the harder, the darkest clouds began to whirl, warning of another storm.

Few animals seemed to appear as he traveled, as most were likely huddled somewhere safe in preparation for the storm. Usually, only dragons and wyverns were bold enough to move during a blizzard. The trouble was, Seton quickly realized, that that also made them tremendously difficult to track, as the storms could easily cover whatever tracks they left. Hopefully, however, this would also make it more difficult for any predators to track Seton, as well.

As he pressed on, Seton looked to the sky once again, seeing the clouds darkening over the mountaintops. This time, he realized that all the clouds were whirling around and converging on one single point: the tip of the highest mountain. All clouds moved closer to that point, and it was at that point that they were darkest. Noting this, Seton strained to get a better look at that mountain.

There, on that peak, he could make out a shape unlike the rest. Though the increasing snow tried to obscure his vision, he discerned shapes like spires of ice atop that mountain, and saw winged figures flying around them in the midst of the storm. They moved rhythmically and uniformly, as if welcoming the brewing with some avian dance. Though he could not see the details of their figures, the fact that they were large enough that he could see them at all told him all he needed. Those were no birds. They were dragonoids, and they were large ones. That was his destination.

The winds pushed continuously, as though warning him to stay away, but Seton pushed harder. And though the skies threatened to send a blizzard, it did not come for many hours. It was not until the evening, when Seton drew near to the end of the hills and the beginning of the mountains, that the clouds finally gave way and the real storm began. Only once the storm had become so severe that he could hardly see a few feet in front of him did Seton begin to dig in the snow, intending to carve out a shelter for himself.

But as he dug, a roar cut through the storm, and the sound of massive wings beating announced a visitor. Immediately, Seton raised his head and gripped his ax, scanning the storm for any movement at all. The roar repeated, this time from behind him. He turned to face it, but no shape was visible. The sound of wings came once more, and the roar rang out from his left. This time, when he turned to face it, he could finally make out the shadow of the thing that had been circling him. Though the details of the shape were obscured, it was far larger than any bear.

Another roar. Then, in an instant, he was thrown to the ground, and the thing was on top of him, pinning down the right side of his body with large arms covered in glistening white scales, and powerful talons to match. All Seton could see, however, was a wide-open mouth, full of sleek, pointed teeth. As the jaws of the beast snapped toward him, he swung his left fist and struck the head of the monster, throwing its mouth away from his head and toward the snow beside him. The surprise of this impact caused the animal to lose its grip, giving Seton just enough freedom to writhe from its grasp.

The moment he did, the beast began to swipe its claws wildly, desperately trying to pin him down once more. Seton scrambled away from the thing, ducking underneath claw swipes and swinging his ax to ward off snaps from the creature's slender but vicious head. A claw grazed Seton's cheek, and the ax grazed the monster's snout. Only then, when the beast reared back in pain, could Seton finally make out the beast's full form.

This was not the Frost King, nor was it any wyvern at all. The thing had four legs beneath its body, slender snout, longer neck, and thinner frame overall. This was a dragon, but it was nearly as dangerous. And it was recovering quickly, flailing for only a few moments before turning its head back toward him, releasing an enraged shriek before spreading its wings and taking off into the storm. Though seton relaxed for a moment, he quickly realized that this was no retreat, as the sound of wingbeats never seemed to leave.

He stood still, waiting and listening as the winds howled all around him. Then, the sound of wings vanished. Nothing but wind could be heard for a moment. Then, just as Seton was about to relax, the dragon sprang from the storm with equally terrifying speed and silence. He saw its movement just in time to throw himself out of the way, but not without the beast's claws catching him as he did, slashing open his right arm. As he fell to the ground, his ax was knocked from his hand, lodging itself in the snow. The dragon, on the other hand, landed gracefully and pounced immediately, giving him little time to react.

Instead of getting to his feet, Seton lifted his legs and kicked with all his might. One foot missed, but the other struck the dragon's snout directly, throwing off its balance and causing it to land clumsily on its side. Taking this chance, he then got to his feet and grabbed his ax. Though his arm seared with pain as he did, he pushed it aside and aimed a swing at the beast's neck. But the dragon was already getting back up as well, and while the ax made contact and left a wound, it was far from enough to behead the monster.

Again, the dragon retreated into the storm, and this time, Seton knew it would not retreat. The creature and the man were stubborn in equal measure, and one would end up dead. So he lowered his stance and listened carefully, preparing himself for a decisive blow no matter which angle the creature chose to attack from. He listened to the wingbeats, and gripped his ax tighter the moment he heard them go quiet. Only the wind could be heard, until, at last, there was a slight change in its constant howl. Something was disturbing its movement, if only a little.

Once he caught that disturbance, he followed it best he could. It circled him once, then grew slightly louder as it got closer. Then he stepped to the side, and swung his ax. Had he waited a moment longer, the dragon's jaws would have taken his head. Instead, it was he who claimed the dragon's. The instant it emerged from the storm's shroud, the blade of the ax was already cleaving through the beast's scales. They were tougher than expected, and the cut was left incomplete, but it did damage enough. The dragon collapsed to the ground, flailing weakly as blood poured from the open wound. Seton took a step closer, and with one more swing of the ax, the dragon's pain was ended.

After taking a moment to examine the creature, as he had never seen anything like it so closely, Seton sat down against its body to shield himself from the wind. He retrieved his sack, pulled out the needle and thread that he had brought, and sewed the gash on his arm shut. Though it hurt immensely, he grabbed a fist full of snow and pressed it to the sewn wound, numbing it just enough that it was tolerable. He then used one of the knives he'd brought to cut off a piece of the sack, which he tied around the wound.

Then he turned to the dragon. There was clearly no way to build a shelter in this storm, but he had another idea. Noticing that the creature's underbelly was softer than the rest of its body, he took his ax and cut through the creature's underside. Blood and entrails spilled onto the snow, their warmth melting away what they touched. The beast's scales, Seton realized, must have been thick enough to keep it warm in such a dreadful climate. That would be all the shelter he would need. So, he used the rope and stakes he brought to fasten the creature to the ground, to ensure the wind wouldn't cause too much harm. 

Then he cleaned his ax, packed his belongings, and crawled into the dragon's chest cavity, trying his best to ignore the awful smell and disgusting feeling of innards around him. However sickening it was, it was also warm, and would last through the blizzard. He even managed to get a small amount of sleep, against all odds.