Champagne Cocaine Gasoline

Chaos' long legs gave him a bit of an advantage in the snow as he strode through it, but the constant accumulation was beginning to stymie even his movements elsewhere. Slogging through this much was a chore - having tried to walk around outside the packlands he could be grateful it wasn't as bad here in higher altitudes than it was down there. The Maw was almost pleasant comparatively since the snow didn't tend to accumulate so deeply there, though the little pockets and valleys were pretty much buried in places already. Elk and the like were congregating on the lower slopes to take advantage of the lack of snow, and the arid steppe seemed to be attracting its share as well between the altitude and the general dryness of the steppe grassland keeping too much snow from accumulating so they could still get to the dried grasses beneath.

His route took him near one of the ruins that scattered the steppe, and he spotted Ruthgar staring at them. "Feeling more alive yet, Ruthgar?" he called out in amusement, the cloud of his breath crystallizing the air before him as he huffed out a laugh. He didn't pick up the pace, not wanting to slip and fall ignominiously on his ass if he found a patch of ice, but he did change direction so his path brought him up beside the scarred brown male. The sharp scent of fresh piss marking one of the stones caught his attention, and he lazily added his own mark to it as well for good measure. Might as well.

"So I noticed you've been making friends in the pack," he said casually as he marked the rock. He gave the other man a kind of lopsided grin, a sly glint. "Getting out and about again?"