Duskfire Glacier Winter needs to come

The wolverine lifted his nose in the air. Was that what he think he smelled? He hurried forward with his big paws pushing him forward in a very typical run for his species. The chocolate colored male traveled the ground pretty quickly until his eyes confirmed what his nose scented. Snow! Ice! He let out a grunt in happiness and continued his traveling pace from before.

He knew that in summer there wasn't much snow. The sun would make it melt, and it was the time for cubs to come out their snow dens. He knew that. But Hawthorne loved the snow. In the area he came from, Northern Alaska, the snow would stay way longer than this far south. The wolverine was just happy to find a bit of ice and snow. He ran up the slope, his claws giving him perfect grip on the ice. 

He jumped over crevices and rolled through the snow. Thorne took bites out of the snow and slid down on his belly and used the icy slopes like a slide. In general, the wolverine male was just having a good time. He couldn't wait till winter when everything would be covered in snow and when food was plentiful. It was far easy to scavenge than to hunt in his opinion.

She was in her element.

Twin peaks surrounding the little wolf voraciously clawed at the sky, meanwhile providing refuge from the sweltering heat of summer in the lowlands; these lands were of contrast, partnering the dangers of the mountains with the sightly and familiar haven of frigidity she knew. Yet, Ceara's blood was of an arctic wolf, reflected clearly in her appearance, and the chill frazzled her not. Hailing north of the Teekon Wilds, she knew the cold well, and being in the mountains, it felt like home. For good reason, she was giddy with joy.

-----

The wanderlust had been strong within her - paw after paw did she move, like a little puffball on stilts -or rather, toothpicks- as she traversed through the lands. It was like a rhythmic song, the sounds of her pawpads meeting rock combined with the empty howling of the wind as it meandered through the vast space above. Flitting across the earth in a clumsy trot, muzzle cracked open in a dainty smile, Ceara fell into a trance as she moved forth and listened. Life was simple. Life was good.

Suddenly, CRUNCH! Catching Ceara off guard, beneath her paws was a great pleasure amidst a hot summer: snow! Eyelids parting open in a flash, unsheathing a rich and exciteable amber gaze, Ceara's pupils dashed all about. Smile morphing into a mischevious grin, the little cream-coated wolf's mind raced with all the possibilities; all the potential fun to be had in the haven before her: ice skating! Slipping and sliding! Snow forts! "Oh, I could dream aaalll day about this.." she giggled to herself "but then again, who could daydream in a place like this?!" No, now was the time for dreaming.. Now was the time for a snow fort! 

Before she could have a second thought, the little white wolf barrelled through the snowfields at what felt like supersonic speeds; like a blur, her white coat seemingly melted and melded with the ashen snow around her. Eyes which scouted for a potential snow den site could not keep up with her legs, however, and she soon saw herself running straight into a slope. Legs stopped beneath her, entering into a slide upon the ice and snow for what felt like forever; obviously, Ceara wouldn't make it, but with bravery and a smile all the while, she beared for impact.

The glacier, in its freeze, had preserved just enough snow, barely deep enough to cushion her impact. Coincidentally, it had also preserved enough snow to preserve Ceara herself. With a yelp and a faint thud, Ceara's head and torso barreled into the shallow snow drift, leaving merely her tail & fluffy butt out of the mix. The front half of her body swallowed by white coldness, Ceara still managed a grin, wild laughter & fervent yipping and barks, somewhat muffled by the snow. Meanwhile, the other half, free from the snow, her butt wiggled like mad and her tail waggled like no tomorrow. Of course, she was having the time of her life, but she'd have to get out somehow.

Hawthorne looked up from his play when he saw something tumbling down the glacier. In his area, it was mostly ice. Thanks to his claws, he had some decent grip. His dark brown eyes traveled over the form that was rolling down. He sniffed the air. Wolf. Another one. There seemed to be quite the infestation of them here, wasn't there? The wolverine trotted forward out of curiosity. 

When he stepped closer to a butt sticking out of the snow. Was it dead? He wasn't sure. The butt seemed to move but that could be the after effects of death. He knew. The beast stepped forward. He hoped that the wolf was dead and that he had a free meal. He listened, and there seemed to be some noises. However, in his mind, it could never hurt to try. He decided to test his idea and opened his jaws and tried to sink it in the wiggling wolf butt to see if it was edible and dead enough already for consumption.

Basking in the cool embrace of the snow, Ceara's mindless giggles and yips continued. Luckily, her fervid wiggles had slowly chiseled at the snow surrounding her, making for a more lax hug on the snow's behalf and a bit more room for Ceara; that noted, she still wasn't sure if she would ever want to leave. Trade a personal, V.I.P snow tunnel for the permeating summer sun and humidity that hung above the lowlands? No way.

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Caught by surprise, four little fangs & accompanying snaggleteeth pricked her bum, clamping down with purpose; fluffy haunches were protected, for the most part, by Ceara's thick double coat, though the offender's teeth had still made their way to the skin to draw droplets of blood for a decent sample. A more distinct yip, one that was shrill and characterized by shock and bewilderment, sounded from Ceara's muzzle - locking her back legs and pushing against the slope, she began her journey out of the tunnel, though it was a tight squeeze. Engaged in a full-body wiggle, she'd have to defend herself from the attacker's grasp, but how? Out of surprise, out of need, and just for fun, Ceara defended herself the only way she knew how. Squeezing her abdomen, followed by a light squeak, Ceara released odorous gas from her rump upon the attacker.

Ceara liked to believe that the heat generated from her attack allowed for a hasty escape from the snow tunnel, though in reality, it was her mere movement that allowed enough room to elude that lovely frigid embrace. Popping herself out of the hole, clumps of snow either clung to her fluff or went flying, creating a mess of snow chunks and paw prints for a few meters around her. In a dash, Ceara swung her head around to see her offender, and with a gasp, she shrieked: "Bear!" Shaking her hind quarters, she attempted to free herself of his grasp, though looking back again... Confusion befell the little wolf. Bear? 

Adorned with a rich dark coat and small button ears, the creature resembled the mighty predator she oh-so feared, yet one that came in a miniature version. Offering another glance to the offender with most brazen and curious amber eyes, "Why, it's a handsome Little Bear! Now, I'll let you off this time, Little Bear, and not only because I'm nice -" barked Ceara, followed by a thoughtful pause and a pensive smirk as she examined the rather dashing and cute little creature "but you're also kind of cute, especially for a bear! Plus, I wouldn't like to think of how your ma would react.." with a brief shudder of fear as the image of a furious mother bear passed her mind, Ceara looked upon the beast expectantly, either waiting for a response or for him to cease his grasp upon her bum - why, where were his manners!

Hawthorne stiffened his movement when his bite caused a muffled squeak coming from under the snow. He thought his prey was dead but it might be still alive. He listened if there was a heartbeat, yet before he could concentrate well, gas came out from his fluffy prey. It wasn't uncommon for prey to let out gas especially when they were rotting already. Would that mean his prey was already dead? He sank his sharp jaws deeper in the butt. The wolverine had quite a force he could bite down. He didn't just eat the soft part of a prey, he ate everything, including the bones. Hence why he needed a strong jaw. He was called a glutton for a reason. He would leave no stone untouched before he had everything of his prey. 

However, once the wolf came free, and was clearly alive he let go of the female. Mostly out of shock that he underestimated this whole scene. He bared his teeth as the wolf started to cute-talk him. His tail raised and was all puffed up. "WOLVERINE," he hissed after she called him a little bear several times. He knew not many of his kind were around here, but he was getting sick and tired of having to defend his species. He jumped forward with his jaws open. He might look like a small bear and be smaller than the wolf but wolverines were also famous for being fearless. As he jumped forward and went for her throat. He was eager for his prey to be dead as he was hungry and the joy of snow should be celebrated with food!

Feel free to move out of his way of his attack (since the throat can deadly etc and that wouldn't be very nice!) but since the dice rolled success, his teeth will have to clamp down somewhere. I'm not picky as to where his bite would end up on her body! :3 (She just really pissed him off xD)