Permafrost Hollows locked up, naked with socks

The further into the Taiga they venture, the colder it gets. Zephyr is unusually high-spirited as he drifts slightly ahead of @Kratos, steps silent against the snow-patched ground. Spring may be looming, but the taste of winter is still in the air here, and for now the wraith is content. The stretch of forest ahead catches his attention. He glances back once before his pace speeds up, and he notices the shift in the air as he enters the woodland. He slows, waiting for Kratos.
It smells like... He can't find the word for it when he addresses his mate. It smells like ice and stone, like him, but that doesn't occur to him. All he can think is that it smells like home. He presses forward after a few moments without waiting for Kratos, pursuing the source of the cold.

A shift in the weather, the wraith no longer gloomy from the southern reaches of the mountains that they’ve left behind. A pep is now in his step, and he trails ahead of Kratos—the hound allows it, entranced by the eagerness in his mate’s attitude.
Black ears perk forward, catching the scent just as Zephyr mentions it. The ice wraith keeps a distance ahead of him, but soon he picks up his pace—trotting to meet the silver and rotating his head to brush the back of his skull against Zephyr’s cheek, much how a cat would greet it’s favorite people (or rather, scent mark them).
You, he finishes for him. It smells like you.

He melts into the touch, turning his muzzle after a moment to nip lightly at the fur on Kratos's forehead. The response startles him for a moment, but it makes sense. Cold, He clarifies further, pleased that his mate helped him solve the puzzle. After awhile, the forest starts to thin and fade away, ground turning icy and a little barren. It's even colder here, and oddly quiet — and ahead, behind the scattered, precarious piles of sharp ice surrounding the mountain's base, something catches his eye. He slows, squinting slightly to get a better view between the looming stacks of ice. Is that a cave entrance?

A growl of affection rises to his throat, rumbling deep within the core of his chest when teeth come to nibble upon his forehead. The scent enough a treat for the hound, yet touch is always more rewarding.
Yet the focus drifts to the territory—remaining on unraveling the secrets it holds. It is similar to their venture in Sunbeam Lair, but perhaps this one will bear fruit.
Striding through the curtain of woodland, the trees grow scarce the further in, a plains set out before them; foothills slope in various heights with tuffs of hardened green peaking on the places the sun has touched most. A reminder that spring is ever prevalent even in the harsh wintery conditions northbound.
The areas in-between the slopes remain a haven of ice, where the shadows linger—some have boulders that stand out a heavy grey against the white. Others are barren. While Kratos focuses on these, Zephyr observes further. Ears twitch at the sound of his mate’s voice. Pale gold eyes sharpen, shifting from the taiga plains to the curved ice stacks.
Tallest among them is the earth’s fang—looming high above their heads and sticking out against the mountain’s reach. His gaze finally follows where Zephyr’s is, and he, too, spots the smudged oddity among the walls.
Let’s find out, he counters. Dark limbs rock forth, plowing through the snow towards the cavern’s entrance.

He allows his mate to take the lead this time, following in his path to make the trek a little easier on him. Feeling a little mischievous, he nips at Kratos's hocks and tail several times in rapid succession, falling back with a laugh to avoid any retaliation. The icy spires are close now, some shattered and reformed into a dangerously loose layer across the rest. He casts a wary glance toward them as the pair starts to pass between them, laughter dying, and moves closer to Kratos. After his experiences with falling rocks, he isn't eager to find out what happens when ice falls.

Wherein Zephyr notices the danger, Kratos sees the thrill. His interest ignited by the curiosity and wonder he’d seen in the wraith’s eyes. So he fuels on, dipping within the cavern. Hanging from the ceiling are a multitude of icicles; some no bigger than a racoon, others a moose. It is unlike anything the dragon has seen.
The blue sheen, too, illuminates the cave, where most would be dark, light still finds its way into the tunnels. Kratos slows his pace, brushing his tail along Zephyr’s shoulder as if to reassure. For all he knows, however, he could have just smacked the poor silver in the face with it. A love tap.

His apprehension melts away as they enter the cavern, eyes widening when they adjust fully to the dim lighting. He veers slightly to the side, brushing against one icy wall and delighting in the way it makes him shiver. I like it here, He murmurs, nipping at Kratos's tail again when it brushes his nose. After a few moments, he speeds up, slipping past his mate and taking a sharp turn into a rather narrow tunnel. His pace increases until he's running, bolting under scattered shafts of blue-tinted light filtering through the crumbling ceiling.

Eyebrows raise, a pleased smirk creeps upon the ink of his muzzle—likely distorted, awkward and ugly. Yet there it curls in its glory as Zephyr echoes his thoughts aloud. This is nice. Not dissimilar from the Lair, but the twists make it feel more like theirs then the prior location ever would have.
Me too, Kratos rumbles—low gravelly voice carrying through the tunnels. Zephyr trails ahead, Kratos follows him on his heels. The sharp turn takes him by surprise, enough that a bark of laughter escapes him, and he takes off after.

The tunnel seems to stretch forever — until it doesn't. It opens suddenly into a vast chamber, more brightly lit than before, and Zephyr comes to a screeching halt. His own thoughts immediately follow his mate's back to Sunbeam Lair, gaze tracing the hazy light all the way up to the holes in the ceiling. The walls here are wet, shimmering with constantly-flowing icemelt. Below, a sparkling blue pool sits at the center of the chamber, fed by tiny rivulets flowing through deep, thin paths carved into the stone by years of erosion. The rest of the floor is surprisingly dry, mossy and scattered with plants where the sun hits most brightly. Overall, a rather ideal place to spend time — or at least, Zephyr thinks so.

Kratos is oblivious to the time that passes as they wind through the narrow pathway, until suddenly the chase halts and he bumps into the back of his mate. Not enough to cause any damage, or to even barrel over him, but it distracts him until he notices the sun’s reach upon his mate. The golden hue lighting the edges of Zephyr’s silver fur.
Pale gold eyes look up. Amazed that suddenly life is all around them. Ice melts away into the warmth fueled by the nearby volcanic magma—hot springs yet to be discovered lurking closer in the chambers and tunnels deeper in the mountain’s grasp. For now, he stays grinning.
This is it. Isn’t it? He turns his head towards the wraith.

The bump had caused him to stumble a little, but he hardly even realizes it'd happened. The only thing that breaks his focus is Kratos's voice, drawing his attention briefly away from the scene before them. Moonlight eyes turn to his mate, a rare smile playing on his lips, though it's awkward and a little off, as his always are. Yeah, He says softly, pausing a moment. This is it.

A shiver trembles through him—home. Theirs. It is a start of something with purpose that fuels Kratos, makes him feel giddy in a way that he hasn’t before if only because it marks a new chapter in their lives together.
Ours, he murmurs. His chest puffs forth, and Kratos gives a kiss over that adorable, awkward smile of Zephyr’s. After, the dragon dips in a playful bow, creating a mood where the duo frolic through their new home with mischief and laughter.