winter grazing is hard

Rannoch entered his third year of life, still a young buck compared to the stags of his once herd. His antlers would grow their third tine this year, but for now his head was bald of his mighty crown. The cycle of the seasons and the natural growth and shedding worked in his favor. There was much less available food in the winter. The trade off was that the predator pressure seemed to let up slightly. There were not many wolves who wished to brave the Boreal winter.

The massive elk was built for exactly this frigid and harsh environment. His body was massive, meaning he could keep warmer and afford to pack on extra stores. Going into winter he could have been considered fat, but it was needed for times like this. His cloves hooves navigated the ice with ease as he followed the guidance of the stars over the desolate land. A mighty tower of ice rose over the horizon, and part of him had hoped they might have found frozen plains. The sun was poking through the clouds, it would be a perfect time for winter grazing. However more difficult the dormant grasses were to get during the dark cold winter. That was why they just had to keep on moving.

His massive hooves crunched lightly over the frozen snow, the icy cathedral overshadowing an ancient taiga. Likely all they would find beneath the ice and snow was lichen but if they were lucky they would find some winter rye.

"Speech"