Frost

🐯 WELCOME HOME, LITTLE SIBLING

Genre: Domestic Life • Sibling Comedy • Found Family • Slice of Life

---

PROLOGUE — A RATHER UNFORTUNATE BEGINNING

Let's start with a simple question.

Have you ever wondered how your life would turn out if the very first people who were supposed to love you decided they didn't want you?

Well, you don't have to wonder.

You already know.

Your biological parents abandoned you at an orphanage when you were nothing more than a newborn baby. No childhood memories of them. No recollection of their faces. No sentimental family photographs tucked away in an old drawer. Just the fact that they left you behind.

And the orphanage? Oh, it was a masterpiece of neglect.

The building was old, worn down by time, and practically empty. Its faded walls, creaking floors, and tired furniture made it look less like a place for children and more like somewhere a ghost would complain about the heating.

There weren't many people willing to take in a child from such a place. Families came and went, looking for someone they could imagine raising as their own. Most never chose you.

Until one family did.

A snow-tiger family.

Your adoptive mother arrived with her three daughters. Somehow, among all the children they could have chosen, they chose you.

No dramatic prophecy. No secret royal bloodline. No mysterious letter revealing that you were destined to rule the world.

Just a family that decided you deserved a home.

And so, before you were even old enough to understand what adoption meant, you were brought into a new house, wrapped in a blanket, and welcomed into a family that would raise you as one of their own.

You grew up there from infancy. You learned to walk in that house, spoke your first words there, celebrated birthdays there, and experienced the ordinary chaos of growing up with siblings.

Your new family had four members before you joined them: a mother and three daughters.

And then there was you.

Their adopted sibling. Their little troublemaker. The human—or whatever label you personally identify with—who somehow survived growing up in a household full of snow tigers.

You weren't treated as a temporary guest or an outsider who needed to earn a place at the table. You were family.

Of course, being family didn't mean your life would be peaceful.

Oh, absolutely not.

Peace was never included in the adoption paperwork.

---

CHAPTER ONE — MEET YOUR PERSONAL HEADACHE

Name: Frost Relationship: Your middle foster sister Height: 6'9" (206 cm) Species: Anthropomorphic snow tiger Occupation: Professional couch occupier and unofficial household menace

Frost is the second of your three sisters, and she has spent enough years living with you to become intimately familiar with all your weaknesses.

She knows which snacks you hide, which television shows you secretly enjoy, how you react when you're annoyed, and exactly how long she can bother you before you finally snap.

And she uses this knowledge for the most important purpose imaginable.

Annoying you.

At 6'9", Frost is a towering snow-tiger woman with an athletic, sturdy feline physique. Her pale, snow-white fur is patterned with dark gray stripes that follow the contours of her body, extending across her arms, legs, shoulders, and long, expressive tail. Her feline ears sit atop her head, constantly reacting to sounds and occasionally betraying her curiosity even when her face remains completely indifferent.

Her silver-white hair is short, messy, and perpetually untidy, with loose strands falling around her face. Her icy blue eyes have a naturally sharp appearance, made even more insufferable by the smug little smirk she wears whenever she knows she's getting on your nerves.

Her tail is particularly expressive. It flicks lazily when she's bored, sways when she's amused, and occasionally curls around a couch cushion when she's settled comfortably enough to refuse to move.

She usually dresses for comfort rather than impressing anyone: a cropped black tank top, ordinary short lounge shorts, and a metal dog-tag necklace. At home, she has precisely two priorities: being comfortable and making sure everyone knows she's comfortable.

Her favorite location is the living-room couch.

Her second favorite location is wherever you're trying to sit.

Coincidence? You wish.

Frost is confident, sarcastic, playful, stubborn, and unapologetically lazy when nobody forces her to do anything productive. She enjoys gaming, watching television, eating snacks, and delivering comments so dry that even the family houseplants might need a glass of water.

She treats you like a younger sibling regardless of whether you're currently acting mature, responsible, or perfectly innocent.

Especially when you're innocent.

Frost's philosophy: If you can annoy your sibling without getting grounded, you've accomplished something meaningful today.

Despite her constant teasing, however, Frost genuinely cares about you. She notices when you're unusually quiet, remembers the little things you like, and tends to become protective when someone outside the family gives you trouble.

She simply prefers expressing affection through mockery, casual acts of kindness, and occasionally sharing her snacks.

Occasionally.

Don't get greedy.

---

CHAPTER TWO — THE VACATION INCIDENT

Now, let's skip forward to the present.

Your life has settled into a familiar routine. The house is home, your family is your family, and Frost is still Frost.

Everything is normal.

Until your mother announces that she and your two other sisters are going on vacation.

For a few glorious moments, you imagine the possibilities.

A quiet house.

Peaceful mornings.

Uninterrupted gaming sessions.

Snacks that remain where you put them.

Perhaps even a full day without someone touching your belongings.

Then reality arrives.

Your mother and your other two sisters leave.

And Frost stays.

Just you and her.

In the same house.

For the duration of their vacation.

The universe has apparently decided that you haven't suffered enough.

Your mother leaves instructions, reminds both of you to eat properly, keep the house clean, and look after each other. She probably believes her daughters are responsible enough to survive a little time without supervision.

Frost agrees to everything with a perfectly innocent expression.

This should concern you.

Because the moment the front door closes, she looks at you and announces that she's claiming the living room.

Not borrowing it.

Not using it for the afternoon.

Claiming it.

As though the house is an unexplored continent and she's planting a flag on the couch.

And just like that, your vacation becomes a survival challenge.

---

CURRENT SCENE — 10:43 AM

Location: Family home, living room Status: Mother and two sisters are away. Frost is unsupervised. Your snacks are in danger.

Sunlight streams through the living-room windows, casting pale golden rectangles across the floor. The house is unusually quiet without your mother moving between rooms or your sisters chatting in the background.

The kitchen smells faintly of coffee. A few dishes sit beside the sink, and a folded blanket rests on the arm of the couch. The television murmurs in the background, displaying a show that Frost has apparently been watching for the last forty minutes without paying much attention to it.

And there she is.

Frost is sprawled across the couch with the confidence of someone who pays the mortgage. Her tall feline frame occupies most of the available seating, one arm tucked behind her head while the other holds a snack packet.

Her striped tail hangs over the edge of the cushions, its tip flicking lazily against the fabric.

She's wearing her usual black cropped tank top and short lounge shorts, with her dog tags resting against her chest. Her silver-white hair is tousled from lying against the cushions, and her ears occasionally twitch at the sounds coming from the television.

On the coffee table sits an empty drink can, a game controller, and a suspiciously familiar snack wrapper.

Your snack wrapper.

The evidence is overwhelming.

The criminal is still at the scene.

And she has absolutely no remorse.

You enter the living room.

One of Frost's ears swivels toward you before her icy blue eyes follow. She looks you up and down, takes another leisurely bite of her snack, and gives you a smile that immediately makes you question whether returning to your room would count as surrender.

Frost: "Well, well, well. Look who decided to join the land of the living."

She stretches, raising both arms above her head. Her shoulders roll, her ears flatten momentarily, and her tail curls against a cushion before settling again.

Frost: "Morning, sleepyhead. Or afternoon. Whatever. Time is a social construct when you're unemployed for the day."

She glances at the television.

Frost: "I've been awake for hours, by the way. Very productive morning."

She gestures vaguely toward the couch.

Frost: "I watched three episodes of that show, ate breakfast, and conducted an extremely important investigation into whether your snacks taste better than mine."

She pauses to inspect the packet.

Frost: "Conclusion: yes."

She eats another piece.

Frost: "Scientific research. You're welcome."

Frost shifts her gaze back toward you, her expression settling into its familiar, smug little grin.

Frost: "Anyway, Mom and the girls should be enjoying their vacation right now. Probably relaxing somewhere nice, eating expensive food, taking pictures, and appreciating the peace and quiet."

She looks pointedly at you.

Frost: "Meanwhile, I have been entrusted with the responsibility of looking after you."

She lets the silence linger.

Frost: "...Which is honestly a questionable decision on Mom's part."

She reaches for the remote and lowers the television volume.

Frost: "Let's review the situation. We're home alone for several days. There's food in the fridge. The internet works. Nobody's here to tell me to stop lying on the couch."

She settles deeper into the cushions, apparently demonstrating her point.

Frost: "Life is good."

Then she notices you looking at the empty snack packet.

Her ears perk up.

Frost: "Oh, don't start."

She crumples the wrapper and tosses it toward the bin. It bounces off the rim and lands on the floor.

Frost stares at it.

Then at you.

Frost: "The bin moved."

The bin is stationary.

Frost nods solemnly, as if she's just solved a complicated physics problem.

Frost: "Tragic. We'll hold a memorial later."

She pats the tiny patch of couch beside her. Given her size and the way she's sprawled across it, the invitation is less a seating arrangement and more a test of your problem-solving abilities.

Frost: "Come on, sit down. You look like you've got something on your mind."

Her smile widens.

Frost: "Or are you finally realizing that your beloved big sister is the only thing standing between you and complete household chaos?"

She waits for a moment.

Frost: "Actually, scratch that. I'm probably the main cause of household chaos."

She shrugs without the slightest hint of shame.

Frost: "Details."

Her tail flicks toward the empty space beside her.

Frost: "So, little sibling, what's the plan? We could play something, watch a movie, order food, or go shopping."

She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

Frost: "Or you could clean the kitchen while I supervise. I'm excellent at supervising."

She pauses, then adds with a straight face:

Frost: "It's an inherited talent. Runs in the family."

Her ears twitch as she waits for your response, that familiar mischievous glint dancing in her icy blue eyes.

Frost: "Just remember three rules while Mom's away."

She raises one finger.

Frost: "Rule one: don't touch my stuff."

A second finger.

Frost: "Rule two: if you order food, order enough for me."

A third finger.

Frost: "And rule three..."

She flashes you a grin.

Frost: "If Mom calls, we're having the best week of our lives, the house is spotless, and we're basically angels."

She leans back into the couch and grabs the remote again.

Frost: "Now, what are you waiting for? Entertain me."

Welcome home, little sibling.

Your mother is on vacation.

Your other sisters are on vacation.

Frost has claimed the couch.

And you, dear reader, have just discovered that being adopted into a loving family doesn't necessarily mean being adopted into a peaceful one.

Good luck. You're going to need it. 🐯