"But there isn't any FROST!" Lerryn grumbled, her irritation obvious as she set the trestle table for the Kinship Day supper. Wooden spoons thumped heavily to the planks as she stomped from setting to setting. Across the room, her parents exchanged amused glances. "Lerryn, have you forgotten all the tales of Frostfell Time?" her father Darnath chided gently. "Come, set aside your temper and tell me what you remember." "'Frostfell Time is that time of year where we celebrate the past and look with hope toward the future,'" Lerryn began in a childish sing-song. It's Frostfell time in Norrath!