I'm not a very good cook...

Tiny paws high stepped as Kite tried to give his little toes a chance to be warm. Snow had fallen. One of the very first of the season. The diminutive canine didn't hold heat very well despite his fluffy coat. Already he was a little shivery. His teeth chattered if he stayed still for too long. He cursed himself. If he was going to be playing in the snow, he really needed to make himself some sort of cloak. Or... you know... have someone else make it since he completely lacked any sort of skill set other than making people smile. Smiles couldn't make you a cloak, eh?

Someone had planted it in his little head that you could eat snow. Why would would want to eat snow, he wasn't sure. Then, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to eat snow as well. It would just taste like water, right? What if he could flavor it with something? He remembered his mother flavoring water with different herbs. That definitely made sense to him. Water was pretty boring on its own, but throw in an orange blossom, some mint and some honey and you had yourself a nice, tasty drink.

On his way to the snowy place, the earthen colored lad picked various plants. Some of them smelled good. Some of them looked pretty. All of them would be used to make his snow the most flavorful snow that ever flavored. He was determined. He was fluffy. He was a genius. He was... cold. Gods, why was it so cold? What was he going to do when the real winter hit? Kite stiffened his lower lip. He needed to find a nice boy to go home with. 'Oh, hello. I'm Kite. Want to take me home? Your mother will love me!' The little wolf snorted at his own inner monologue and gave his head a shake. Now the snow was making him talk to himself.

The ground was white, but the snow wasn't deep. This was definitely as far as he was going though. Plopping onto his stomach, the tiny man used both paws to scrape a pile of the white powder up from both sides. It wasn't the biggest pile, but he supposed it would do. Now... how was he going to mash things? From his spot, Kite looked around, trying to find a mashing apparatus.  Aha!  Rising, he bounced over to where a few rocks lay upon the ground. Taking one in his mouth, he scooted the larger along with his paws until he made it back to the pile that he'd scraped up. Laying back down, Kite placed the herbs, petals and whatever else he'd grabbed upon the rock. Lifting the smaller rock, he began mashing and grinding the herbs. Again and again he struck them, careful to scrape the outer edges inward so that everyone was squished equally. What he ended up with was a disgusting looking brown paste with flecks of green plant membrane and orange looking petal fibers. It... didn't look appetizing at all.

Kite's body heat had melted most of the snow, so he had to scrape another pile up before him. This one was larger than the one before. It also had a bit of dirt and maybe a pebble or two in it... but whatever. He wouldn't eat the whole pile and if he got the pebble, he'd spit it out. Simple as that. Easy peasy, as the saying went.

The little, puff tailed man got to work mixing his weird, brown paste into the white snow. By the time he was finished, it looked like a pile of vomit. He had to keep adding more snow to it and still the moisture in the plant mixture turned it into a pile of mucky slush. He really wasn't good at anything. With a frown, he prodded the pile of garbage. Then, with a shrug and a murmur of "Here we go..." he took a big bite of the brown wad. It. Was. DISGUSTING! The vested man forced himself to swallow the bite that he had in his mouth, but it threatened to come up a moment later. Jumping backwards away from the pile of hell garbage, Kite shoveled clean snow into his mouth. Tons of it. No matter how much snow he washed his mouth with, the flavor of the mixture wouldn't go away. The acrid stench of it was burned into his nose and the taste just clung hard to his taste buds like burrs in a fluffy pelt.

Giving his head a shake to try and stop himself from puking, Kite planted his paws and took off like a dart, running as fast as he could away from the death muck. He needed to find water or some plant that he knew to shove in his mouth. Before he even made it to the edge of the thicket, he felt like something was wrong.