Walkin' In A Muddy Winterland

He breathed in deeply and let out a sigh in a plume of steam, padding through the slog of mud on the eastern edge of the Estuary. His circuitous extended patrol had taken him here, where he’d brought down a moose with the help of Halla, Nolan, and Wyndelin, collected honey for a bear – which had been particularly bizarre – and found his first relocated bee hive. Said bee colony was safely tucked in a large woven basket, hibernating.

This end of the Estuary was less pleasant, a well-like place for crocodiles and other large reptilian predators. Luckily, during winter most such creatures were dozing and less active.

His ears swiveled almost constantly, even so, because while reptiles weren’t so active in the cold months, mammalian predators, barring most bears, weren’t so compliant. He didn’t want to be caught off guard by a big cat or anything else out there that might want to eat him just as keenly as he might want to eat a moose.

Coyotes were particularly bold in the winter, when food was leaner, and when in packs they had a bravado to them, raiding packs and loner kills. They didn’t have so much trouble with them in Valhalla—probably because Regulus had, at a much younger age, led a sort of crusade and annihilated most of the nearby population in revenge for the murder of his first companion, the cat Cinder.

He paused, taking in the scents of a bush, eyes scanning around him.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think