Snow big deal

Winter was slowing down, the warmth of spring was creeping it's way into the lands and soon enough the harsh chill of winter would fully break. Ultimately it made the snow on the ground wetter. Which meant one thing in particular: it stuck to everything but especially fur. Desponia certainly didn't like that. Whenever she was out and about it felt like her flesh was never dry anymore and it took hours of warming herself up to feel like she wasn't soaked through again. But that also meant that the snow stuck to itself rather well.

Desponia was a fully grown woman, true, but she still needed to keep her mind occupied to stop herself from going mad with boredom, so that morning when she'd woken up to notice the later winter sun as it partially melted the snow she'd made up her mind. The woman shook herself out and slipped from her mostly secluded den, grimacing as the snow instantly pressed between her toes where it would no doubt stick for a while. The woman would quickly make her way towards the rock garden, her path was well-trod, though she had started spending more time on the island she still often slipped away from the majority of the pack, and today she had no real desire to be spotted, at least not for some time. No doubt there would be some question of her motivation or sanity if she was spotted playing with the snow the way a pup might. But damn if she wasn't feeling creative today.

Soon enough her paws were on the mainland, covered in wet chunks of snow and the purple woman shook them out, no doubt a pointless effort but she wanted to try and keep them as clean as possible so that she could use her paws to shape as much as she could. The woman spotted a drift in the shade of one of the outcropping of rocks and despite herself, her lips twitched slightly into the barest hint of a smile, a rare sight indeed. Now she just had to figure out what she wanted to make.

A fort certainly felt particularly childish... Maybe just a basic snow wolf then? Desponia wasn't even sure she knew how to make one, she hadn't exactly gotten much chance to try so as a child... How hard could it be though right? Right?

Not a chance, the woman stepped back from her lump of a sculpture. The snow sticking to her paws had meant that half the time when she tried to shape something she'd pulled away at the sculpture and the other half of the time it added the snow from between her toes onto the surface and frankly she was getting more and more fed up with it. Settling back on her haunches with a low grunt of frustration the woman eyed up her misshapen pile of snow, it hardly resembled a snowdrift anymore, let alone a wolf. Why was this so hard?

WC: 501 (Using half-word count found here)

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