Voices. Angry, shouting. Some coming at the same time, confusing and frightening even to someone with perfect grasp of the language, which Frore did not. In response to the demands of the woman he could only make rough, deep noises, the intense cracking of lake ice. A series of event followed quickly, falling upon him like rain, and he couldn't respond to any of them.

First a man approached the infuriated mother. Though his words were too low and intermingled with the hubbub of the crowd for Frore to clearly identify, his tone was of concern. He was serene and thoughtful, even in the face of a monster such as him. If anyone could understand that the Chilfos meant the child no harm, this was he. Naturally, though, Frore was totally unable to communicate this idea, and stood helpless as he and the ranger were approached by a large man in glorious golden plate. All of his life Chilfos had endeavored to avoid men like Sir Orca Halbert, men whose duty and destiny were to fight and destroy evil, and the sight of the knight was inspire both fear and hostility within him. More alarming were the spearmen, who circled around his icy, unmoving body until they and the knight formed the points of a triangle edging him in. After dismissing the potentially helpful ranger, the golden knight turned to Frore, joining in the rising chorus of emboldened voices demanding explanation from him. In response, Frore crackled again, but this time even his meaningless vocalization was lost in the tumult. Anger began to boil within him; why couldn't these foolish people understand?

Cain's attention was drawn from the repentant masked man (now courting the red-haired fisherwoman and pleasing the crowds with odd toys) when he became aware of rising voices a few streets over. After pausing for a moment in wonderment, he groaned as he guessed what might be the source of the commotion. Flitting from shadow to shadow, he arrived at the scene in seconds. What he saw both aggravated and worried him: his partner enclosed by an ever-expanding circle of bellicose villagers and festival-goers, even a few Gorons. What most perturbed him, however, were the spearmen and the knight that had Frore totally penned in. “Stay here, I said,” he grumbled from the shadow of a women clothed in green and decked out in an emerald-embossed silver tiara. “Is that so hard? Moronic icicle.” Only one potential problem separated him from returning to Frore's shadow to whisper him advice, which was that the shadows of the spearmen and Sir Halbert were disconnected from any others. To make the jump between them, he would have to become a new shadow for a split second, one that could very easily be noticed by anyone looking at the ground. With a dangerous icy creature looming seven feet above the dirt, however, who would be looking at the ground?

As Cain briefly pondered this problem, he became aware of a small orb of light dodging amongst the feet of the assembled people. Distracted momentarily by the oddity, he squinted so as to better make out what it was. He managed to make out the vague shape of a woman within the indigo radiance. As he watched, the being did exactly as he had been planning to do and floated out over the ground in plain sight to dart beneath Frore's cloak. After a moment, the purple-blue glow reappeared in his hood. He identified the minuscule, luminescent woman as a fairy, and vaguely remembered from some conversation long ago that they provided guidance. “That's my job.” Following the path Lethe had taken, Cain quickly slid across the ground as an independent shadow, occupied that of a spearman's, followed that cast by his extended spear, and rejoined Frore at last.

[i]“Hey Cold One… Gee, you sure shook things up around here, didn’t you? Hold still. Don’t move. I’m going to get you out of here, but you have to do as I say, got it?"[/i]

Having navigated to the shadows within Frore's hood, Cain heard the fairy's whisper loud and clear. He was prepared to respond with hostility, but decided just before speaking that if this fairy really had the power to remove them from this sticky situation, they might as well take the chance. Surliness could wait until later—of course, later, they'd owe this little pixie for 'saving them'. A dozen thoughts flashed through the Twili's mind, from insults to predictions to observations to alternative plans, but only one word passed his lips.

“Understood.”