Moonspear champagne

Each nip stirred a fire within her. Not the sort that razed forests to the ground, but the sort that warmed you on a too-cold night. The sort you yearned to get nearer to, to ease the aches and pains of the air that had become painful to breathe in. Dirge was relief, reprieve, comfort, and more—moments ago, she had thought to flee, but as he drew nearer...

Change of plan. 

Her forelegs sought now to wrap around him in the wolf equivalent of a hug, and what upper strength her body harbored attempted to take him to the snowy earth beside her. Distance was not what she sought this millisecond, she decided. The warmth his nearness brought was exactly what she craved more of. His bold move was paying off in the moment, so it would seem.