The Heartwood roof of the world

@Terance

There was death in the wood. The forest was comprised of nothing more than snow against brown earth that had once been rich timber and lush ferns. Fire had destroyed the territory and taken life with it. The thief picked his way carefully on broomstick limbs and small feet. His frame was light enough that he could stand atop the snow, though it flecked against his dark pelt and cast a beautiful picture of coal, fire, and ice against his flesh.

Tadec was wary. He did not know how easily he could have been overcome in that terrain. While he was swift and lean, the strength of the wolves had often proved too much for him. With sweeping eyes, the coywolf padded lightly atop the snowbanks. The thief shuddered against the cool touch of the winter winds, but he knew that he could seek safety on the other side of the dead wood.