[color=800000]After Rost regained his composure from the exciting ride down the hill, he determined that he should follow the whistling off in the distance. He kicked the shield up, retracting it back into a sheath while he gracefully slid his sword back into it. Then Rost began trailing after the whistling with his sword draped across his shoulders and his arms hung over it.

As the whistling grew louder, Rost was wondering which of the others, he would be paired with. The closer he got to the whistler the more his mind drifted from reality, he imagines who it might be, what they act like, where they are from... Rost didn't snap back to reality until he heard a loud howl behind him. He quickly turned around, flipping his sword of his shoulders, positioning it in front of him just in time to receive the blow from a beowolf. The hit from the massive claw was still enough to send Rost flying. He hit a tree with a thud. Rost arched his back in pain, and realized he had found his whistler, as he stared up at a man with hair as white as snow.[/color]