Does Spring actually exist here?

Spring had sprung, but it seemed Winter had caught it in its claws and slapped it back to the ground like a vindictive tiger. Her children’s birthday had been engulfed not by the subtle nuances of spring, but by a howling blizzard that put the one she’d led a raid in to shame. She was pretty certain the tents would have been ripped from their moorings in the healer’s camp had she chosen that blizzard to fight in.

Today was relatively peaceful, though snow was falling thickly around the Spirit as she padded along the wall, wondering if they’d be walking level with the top of the wall on snow if this weather kept up. On the one paw, that might make building the wall higher easier, though on the other, the snow might not pack that well.

Her breath fogged the air in a long sigh as she scanned the ever-falling veils of snow, glowing tail swaying as she paused, paw lifting. If this kept up and messed with the prey, they might have to raid in earnest at some point, but she’d need intelligence on packs.

Her course turned, patrol finished anyway, and she loped, bounding through the snow to where she knew Drachen had settled in. She arrived to find the entrance to his den blocked. She paused, ears perking. She could hear some digging from inside, and soon bent to begin shoveling from her side, peeking over the top of the hole she eventually cleared out, head cocked, and eyes faintly amused. “Some weather, eh?”

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think