He sat up slowly, eyeing the ashes of his last night's fire as he tucked the collar of his worn coat a little closer around his neck. The mountain snowdrifts were long since past, but the air still carried and unpleasantly cold bite to it. Not that, with all his years in the kingdom, it should bother him. He debated for a moment the wisdom of leaning back against the tree and going to sleep again, but he eventually decided that sleep wouldn't any more banish his gloomy thoughts than walking. So he got to his feet and started off.

In the long month -- had it only been a month? -- since the demons' attack, since the fall of Arctica and the loss of all he cared about, his meanderings had finally brought him to the edge of the ice-locked kingdom that had been his home. What they hadn't brought him to, though, was an idea of what to do next.

Get away ... survive ... tell the story of what happened here ... that's all very noble, but what good does it do me if I can't get off this rock? There was an ocean between him and the nearest city. Admittedly a narrow, shallow ocean, but an ocean nonetheless, and it was enough to prevent his escape.

He drew in a deep breath, the cold air striking the insides of his mouth and nose like a knife. It reminded him, in its own way, that he was still alive, and that he had things to do. Grimacing to himself, he started his way down a rocky incline, taking care to avoid the ice that nested in cracks and crannies, making it a treacherous walk downward. In a way, he could remember the route to the sea, but he hadn't gone there much, leaving that sort of thing to the higher-ups in the knighthood. Come to think of it, he'd never been there. A small frown worked at his mouth. How hard can it be to find a beach, anyway? He gave his shoulders a shrug and sprang, two-footed to the next rock.

A grunt escaped him, and he windmilled his arms as the heel of his left boot struck an ice patch. I never did like living in the cold. He wavered for a moment, then took another jump forward, this time skidding violently to the edge of the rock. For a moment -- a split second -- he thought he had saved himself a tumble down the hillside, just before his ankle twisted underneath him and send him pitching facefirst into the icy ground.

A series of squawks and curses erupted from him as he fell, bashing parts of himself he never knew he had against stone, bramble, and assorted debris. When he finally landed -- on his rump with his long legs flopped out before him, his sole comment was, "Aaah, shit!" He leaned his head back, staring at the crystal-blue sky and contemplating just exactly how dedicated he was to the beach idea, when a voice broke into his thoughts.

"Not very good at that, are you?"

Jack immediately sprang to his feet, fumbling for only a split second with his sword before slashing it out defensively before him. "Who the hell are you!?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," the voice retorted pertly, and there was a slight rustling in the thin brush before him. Mind all afire with images of demons and their like, he repressed an angry shiver and concentrated on keeping his sword point steady. "You see," the voice continued, "you're the one who came crashing down on me."

"Come out where I can see you, demon!" Jack yelped, inwardly cursing the shrillness that tinged his voice.

"Demon?" The voice sounded vaguely astonished, and the rustling in the minimal brush grew more pronounced. "What kind of idiot could mistake me for a demon?"

Jack watched in tension-numbed silence as the short, scrubby undergrowth of the stunted forest parted to reveal a diminutive figure all clad in blue fur. He was twitching his whiskers indignantly.

"A ... rat?" Jack stared for a moment, a look of blank incomprehension coloring his face. In one smooth motion, he knelt down and scooped the small animal into the palm of his hand. The creature showed no sign of apprehension, other than a slight rippling shudder, but he fixed a stern glare on Jack, who continued to stare at him blankly. "A rat," he repeated.

The animal's glare faded to resignation. "A rare and specialized kind of idiot," he answered himself, ears drooping back slightly.