obsession in a young man's game

In the midst of the swirling winds and a multitude of trees sat a dark shape. It might have been a stump, but it stood up to its four legs, shook off a thick layer of frost, and took a few paces to its right. Moments after it sat again, a massive pine branch cracked, the noise almost inaudible in the winds, and fell to the ground to his left, missing the wolf by half a foot.

The stranger didn't seem to be looking for shelter, despite the obvious hazard of standing out in the open during such a strong flurry. He just sat there, looking up towards the sky as a fresh coat of snow began to grow again on his lanky form. Every few seconds, he'd look towards the ground to clear his eyes, shaking his head and blinking.

On one such digression from the stormwatching, his colorless eyes fell upon someone else some distance away, wandering in the woods. A little strange, he thought, wondering briefly if this other fellow needed help or directions. Most people out in storms like this were lost and weren't just admiring the power and beauty of the storm or looking for the voice of the gods in the winds. Besides, he hadn't seen much of anyone since he'd followed the storm to this seeming kojot-less land.

He raised his nose in the rushing cold and released a long, wavering howl, a modulating crescendo that rose through the noise of the winds without being in conflict with it. "Hello, my friend!"