Means the flame beneath the ice.
Neither in the Universal Language nor in the obscure dialects of the Northern Territory.
Said to be from a certain epic passed down through generations of the "Frost Throat" clan.
Young Frogon was never satisfied with his name.
In his little mind, "flame" should be the most powerful thing in the world, second only to the Clan Leader.
It could dispel the cold and bring rare warmth to the tribesmen amidst the ice, snow, and frost.
Even the hard, teeth-chattering frozen meat would turn soft, juicy, and delicious after being grilled by the flame, so much so that he wished he could swallow his tongue.
And when he learned from the warriors in the tribe that those strong barbarians protected by the ancestral heroic spirits often had the fiercest rage burning within them,
he grew increasingly dissatisfied with his name.
Flame should burn brightly, without reservation.
Not be obscured beneath the ice.
Therefore, the young Frogon, despite having the strongest body among his peers, rarely introduced the origin of his name as proudly as his friends did.
He just flexed the muscles on his arm and used a feigned indifferent expression to change the subject.
But after all, he was still a child with an immature mind, longing for the acceptance of his companions.
No matter how indifferent he pretended to be outside, every night before bed in the quiet moments, he would pester his mother repeatedly asking if there were other meanings to his name.
His relentless determination seemed as if it could even melt the frost.
However, newborns’ names in the Frost Throat Tribe were often given by the Clan Leader after divination, once they were a month old.
A young woman, simple and hardworking, who had never left the Frost Moss High Plateau since birth, knew no more about the meaning of "Frogon" than he did.
Nor could she possibly disturb the most busy and respected elder of the tribe for such a small matter.
She could only repeat over and over the meaning she had already said countless times.
"A flame burning beneath the ice."
And whenever she lost patience with the child’s endless questioning, she would resort to that same old little story that she had told countless times before.
"Naughty children will be snatched from the house at night by the Winter Witches and turned into speechless snowmen."
Needless to say, children on the ice field truly feared this tale.
Especially when hearing about the witch riding her gray broom and using her branch-like, ugly, shriveled claws to pull children out of their beds by the neck.
No matter how excited Frogon got, he could only fearfully tuck his head into the covers and plead with his mother not to extinguish the hearth fire tonight.
As his body grew stronger and his height shot up.
Even his mother, who once had to crouch to look him in the eye, now had to tilt her head to speak to him.
The troubles of childhood were replaced with more naive and chaotic worries and expectations.
The glint of an axe blade flashing in the snow, the new scars on his arm, the breath of the Winter Wolf howling... even the braids of a maiden swaying in the wind.
Frogon no longer cared about the specific meaning of his name.
It was just a designation.
He hefted fully the heavy backpack filled to the brim with various supplies.
A hint of helplessness showed on Frogon’s still youthful face.
"No need to bring so much stuff, everything can be bought in town."
His little protest was naturally no match for his mother’s worries.
More sensible now, he knew his family was uneasy about his impending departure.
No complaints, just joked a bit to ease the wrinkles on his mother’s forehead, then firmly strapped the pack onto his back.
He was sent off, walking out the door.
A girl’s exclamation reached his ears.
Looking over, he only saw a swift figure like a snow rabbit, hurrying away on two strong legs.
Leaving behind a long, slightly blue braid, bouncing in the snow light.
"Not going to say goodbye to her?"
Beside him, his mother teased, gently patting his shoulder.
Frogon just shook his head, tightening the pack on his back.
Just in time as the hunting team returned.
Bristly brownish fur frozen full of ice crystals, a snow plain mammoth as large as a mountain, carried into the tribe by several muscular, strong barbarian warriors.
On the sled behind, they dragged many large and small prey.