Wild Berry Meadow each like a corpse within its grave, until

@Arty thank you for your patience! <3

The meadow has quickly become a favorite place of his, a home away from home. The respite from the onset of winter is oddly soothing at times, though the wraith can't stand it for very long. He prefers the cold; needs it, in some ways. But he's learning that he needs warmth, too. So he takes his daily hunting trip to the meadow, tracking a scent that he hopes will become dinner for Phillip. It's a little faint, so he isn't optimistic about it, but he knows there will be other prey in the meadow. It's a fairly popular spot.

Worth it! <3

Winter had come.

With frosted showers and blanketed snow that crunched beneath his feet, the coywolf breathed in the crisp air with much delight -- a smile painted on his delicate features. "Ahhh, чувствует себя как дома, не так ли, Дмитрий?" he'd ask his avian companion, barely peering over his shoulder as he walked through the whitened-over meadow. The last time Arty had visited the wilds, things did not look as luxuriously beautiful as they were now -- all with the greenery and over-saturated colors of flora and fauna. Now, things were just the way he liked it.

He and his brother had made the mistake of returning home thinking things would be okay, but he was wrong. Neither of them were wanted there and it was not safe. But that is okay -- the Teekons shall be their home now....

Just off in the distance, the outline of a figure reflected in his dark, celestial eyes. It had been a while since he last talked to anyone upon his stay, and this one did a great job at piquing his interest. So why not?  "Why hello my frost-bound friend! Why are you alone on such beautiful day?"

oh my god this took so long im so sorry life hates me

The pale boy and his bird catch Zephyr's attention quickly, just moments before he calls to him. He fixates immediately on the strangeness of his eyes, even from a distance — but the greeting that follows effortlessly takes the spotlight. The wraith would never admit it, but some part of him rather enjoys the term frost-bound friend. Already endeared to the stranger, he steps closer, head tilting a little as he answers. Well, I'm not alone anymore, am I? He asks rhetorically, a slight half-smile tugging at his lips. I was hunting, though. What about you? He can't help being intrigued by the beautiful stranger and his odd, enchanting accent and his equally odd but even more enchanting eyes.