Sleeping Dragon the rhythm of snow

Hush had not been as active in the pack as he wanted or hoped to be. He could not explain it, but it felt as if he had...no purpose. He was new to this idea of trades, but could not find one, or a combination of two, that truly fit him. He was a scout, and yet he was also a guardian, and a hunter, and, in his own way a counselor. Perhaps, he thought, standing and shaking his stiff and idle paws, I should experiment. I have been idle and lazy long enough.

Hush trotted down from his resting place, slowly at first as his body warmed up. He was still not used to this cold, though it was warmer than other days, and he didn't think he would ever be. It was a deeper cold than that of his home in the geyser-filled valley of Yellowstone, a thought he had never thought imaginable. But it was. The hybrid stretched and jumped, feeling the bite of cold on his pads as he crunched through snow, ice and rock. He tried his hardest to ignore it, but it was hard to.

In the distance he saw one of his packmates, the raccooned face female he had first met by the stream. Walking towards her, he chuffed a greeting softly, his tail wagging slowly as he closed the distance. They could do something productive together.