Whitefish River Like white smoke

The bitter onslaught of deadly winter weather was stilled at this moment, as the youth traipsed the land with a light skip in his step. The snow crunched beneath his ginger paws, creating perfectly round footprints in the canvas of white, little tracks to mark where he had crossed trailing behind his drifting figure. Kieran was appreciative of the fur that coated his body, the icy fingers of winter coiling around him like a scarf knitted by the snow itself.

He caught sight of a figure in the distance, a dark colour that stood out amongst the blank yet sparkling frost, and his tail began to wave gently behind him - a sign to display he was no threat, not wishing for conflict. Perhaps they were only a stranger drawn by the black thing around his neck, but the young hunter would not mind some companionship. "Heyo!" He greeted cheerfully, foresty eyes gleaming in the light.