I don't need saving!

It was supposed to be Spring. He was supposed to be laying on his back, basking in the sun. Not trudging through snow. But, who was he to complain? He was warm enough, if a little hungrier. Still, it seemed like the Southern part of Boreas should have been, you know… warmer? No? Still cold here?

Fine.

Not that he really knew anything about anything around here. This was just Souther than he'd been before, and that was good enough for him. He'd traveled most of the night, minding his own business, avoiding company, sniffing at the occasional interesting scent-trail. He figure he'd eventually nestle himself into the roots of one of these trees and take a nice nap. Maybe he'd dig out a nice little bowl in the snow and–

He heard something.

Iarlaith went still, ears perked and alert.

…no?

Probably some animal knocking snow off branches somewhere, someplace. He yawned, nose scrunching.

And sneezed. His tongue flashed out, licking the last vestiges of the tickling sensation away. Easing back into a languid walk, Iarlaith figured it was fine; he didn't have any friends in these part. No enemies, either. Nothing to worry about. Whatever. An ear flicked, he lowered his head again, and pressed forward–

That kind of sounded like a growl, somewhere off to the left.

The damnable snow muffled everything, making it hard to judge distance. But it sounded close.

"What in the hell…?" His head shot up once more, brow furrowed. His first instinct, of course, was to keep on, maybe a little quieter than before. Sounded like trouble, get the hell away. Easy. There were bigger, meaner things around than him, most of which he'd rather not meet in the middle of the woods on a cold Winter– Spring– day…

Someone shrieked.

His paws stopped of their own accord. That sounded like trouble.

He was one wolf, living on his own, with nothing to gain by jumping into a stranger's business. He needed to keep his head down and do only what was absolutely necessary to him, not go toward the big, menacing noise in the distance.

He sighed, eyes slipping closed. Resigned.

Iarlaith whirled in the direction of the cry and, before he could overthink just what it was he'd decided to do, his paws picked up the pace, carrying him over and under foliage until he reached a broad clearing. He skid to a halt, eyes narrowed, sweeping the horizon. Maybe it was gone now? Maybe it was nothing–

Ah. No. Definitely not nothing.

The sight was almost comical: some poor fool, face-planted in the snow, a beastly creature that, to Iarlaith, seemed more bear than wolf (seriously, it was huge), and grim chances. Well, for the little lady anyway.

This is a bad idea. He cringed, but his paws started forward again, this time at a dead run.

"Heya!" Disturbingly casual. "Big guy!" Iarlaith's fangs flashed, somewhere between a grin and a snarl.