Frosting was no stranger to wandering. He had long given up any destination—his mind was elsewhere, always drifting, always lost in thoughts of things he would never say aloud or breath life into.
And the gust wind seemed to follow the same destiny. The occasional gust of wind stirred the skeletal remains of long-dead creatures scattered across the terrain.

Beside him, his small dragon companion scampered excitedly, weaving between his legs. The creature was restless today, its tail flicking in anticipation. It had that look in its eyes again—mischief, hunger, maybe a bit of both. Frosting didn’t pay it much attention, at least not until it stopped suddenly, its gaze fixed on something in the distance.

The dragon looked back at Frosting. Oh, it so very wanted a nibble, maybe a bite or two. It wanted to see its flames consuming the very beings that are specters. Frosting looked at him and then at the specters and then back at him, raising his eyebrow he said, “You like those?” Frosting never really asked what his little guy ate. Or what he was. He just attached to his leg once. Frosting’s memory unfortunately ran short. And he often forgot about things that happened. Whereas most horses can easily recall events and memories they’ve experienced or heard about with ease, Frosting only remembers bits and pieces of what happened to him, and he constantly mixes up when they occurred as well. Intense sensory stimulation helps, as does being in a familiar environment, but for the most part, Frosting’s declarative memory is full of large gaps and holes.

Frosting shook his head, pulling himself out of his reverie. Waking up to his dragon going kirby mode at the spectral. The dragon’s eyes gleamed with delight, and with a final whoosh, it inhaled the entire mass of spectral energy in one, single gulp.

Frosting just watched, his mind taking a second to catch up to what had just happened. He blinked again, his expression unreadable, though somewhere in the back of his foggy mind he was just glad he wouldn’t have to deal with them possibly attacking him. His tail flicking lazily, he thought to himself, ‘Why not?’ Why not eat them. Simple enough. Somethings are just destined to be eaten. The dragon gave a satisfied snort, waddling back to his side as if nothing unusual had happened.

Phoebe was standing right behind them, she was left perplexed at what she had just seen. It’s that Frosting kid and his dragon again.