Redhawk Caldera the full moon dips its golden spoon.

Evening came, and with it a dusting of snow. The flakes fell like powder, soft and silent, and Elwood couldn't help but admire it. For whatever reason, he wasn't particularly tired; he should have been, considering he had spent the entire day building a cache near his new den (which he had carefully selected according to Somnia's advice, though it was nowhere near as expansive as Ashton's infirmary). He had managed to scrounge together a few squirrel carcasses that he had deposited in other places around the territory, and compiled them into one location. The work hadn't been exhausting, necessarily, but he had been moving up and down the caldera all day.

He took a deep breath of the frigid air and watched the steam rise from his nostrils as he exhaled. Snowflakes drifted around him, dancing against his eyelashes and sticking to the peppered fur along his shoulders. Hoping that a walk would tire him enough to make sleep a possibility, Elwood meandered away from his burrow, leaving a trail of pawprints in his wake.

The Delta made his way slowly through the trees until he came across a rocky path. He began to follow it, moving at a snail's pace as he took in his wintry surroundings. The trail led him to a stream, its bubbly surface not yet frozen over, and he began to follow its winding descent down the mountain, totally unaware of the she-wolf curled on a nearby rock.