Bitter Cold

The dark of his pelt was beginning to weigh down beneath the accumulating snow as he rushed through the blizzard en route of his makeshift home in the mines. The day a pack chased him out of these mountains would be quite awkward, as he had been dwelling here for almost all of his life. Winter reminded him that he was another year older, though it was hard to believe another one had went by already. In his own mind, he was still had so much to learn - why had he pictured himself so much wiser at this age when he was a pup?

For instance, a smart wolf wouldn't have missed the signs in the weather that would notify him that a blizzard was coming. He had neglected it to the point of risking losing all sense of direction in a cruel world of white; wasn't he supposed to be a 'smart' wolf by now? A cold chill shook his bones and forced him to thrash some of that snow off. He hadn't realized just how damp his pelt was becoming until it was now exposed to the cold air. A snowshoe hare rushed just across his path as it also darted toward the mountain mines. He knew they liked to reside in the vegetation that had taken over some of the sunnier parts of the broken caverns and had burrows all through-out the tunnel system. It was quite amazing what generations of rabbits had managed to accomplish there without many threats coming by. Dominus actually preferred larger meals, and never found a rabbit worthy of the energy it took him to expense - not since he'd grown past a yearling, anyway.

Overgrown claws would grip into the ice for traction as he immediately through his weight to follow that hare, wanting to keep it in his sights to lead him home. The smell of it and the thick of the pines told him he was getting closer, but the rabbit was much lighter and quicker across the fields of snow than he was. Even now that the pines began to shelter some of the ground, the snow was high - his weight sunk and left craters beneath where the bulk of him crafted the memory of his chosen path.