Ocean's Breath Plateau until his feet bleed and

wintersbane has always been a vain creature ...there wasn't a time he could remember when he wasn't and he enjoys being complimented on his looks even if it is just 'your coat is pretty' and an admiring gaze. he doesn't remember much of arturo but he's glad that he took after lotte ...who he assumes was the looks of the ansbjørn-fearghal pairing. "i'll figure it out." a shoulder lifts in a lofty half shrug. it wasn't as if his life depended on being able to hide from her, after all.

it does not take her too long to find him ...and he doesn't expect to be hidden very well. he does the best he can with what he has to work with but it's not much and the shadows of the daylight are light touched even as they try to shrink away from the sun's greedy and grasping beams and he knows it's only a short matter of time before she glimpses him as he hears her footfalls approach his chosen spot. her gotcha marks his defeat and he belly crawls out from beneath the bush, pausing half-way out to lash his tongue against an upset patch of fur on his shoulder as a spindly branch tugs a small tuft loose. the sting and itch is brief and the swipe of his tongue — catlike perhaps — is quicker to soothe. he shimmies the rest of the way out and looks to her where she sits, looking at him with a lively glint in her eyes.

wintersbane feels a bit silly playing a game as an adult, even as he assures himself that it was educational for his plight to become a cubsitter. besides that, there was very little doubt in his mind cubs were bound to come up with games that would test his dignity to no end. cubs were incredibly imaginative, after all. "so... what now?" the tundrian inquires of his companion.