Duskfire Glacier and so he's chosen to cower in the water like a dumb animal

But it was only for a moment, for hunger had its ugly claws wrapped ‘round his stomach. A slow pull back into a harsh reality.

Hungry and cold.

This end of the earth did not prepare for the coming of spring, not yet. Hiro had spent many a sleepless night beneath the frigid watch of stormy skies. Herds had no reason to come to fields of snow that had yet to melt. Not that he could even dream of sinking his teeth into even the weakest of stragglers.

Hiro was not made for this life.

If he could not lap up the blood of prey, he thought, he would take his fill from the rivers. One he just found that had been cruely capped with ice. A sick joke. They scowled at the surface, burned daggers through the ice before plunging his paw down with a scream. 

The frozen lake was not as sturdy as it first appeared. The ice caved to the sudden pressure. Blunted claws wisked through freezing waters and dug into the dirt of the bank. A chill runs through his leg and down his spine.

Hiro fell quiet, all for his rapid, shaking breath.

The tinkerer, in contrast, was made for this. Born and bred within a kingdom of rime, though he was still a stranger here, it was no different from the tundra he sprang from. So far, the rumors he'd heard of the Teekons being remarkable were inconclusive. It was simply another barren wasteland as far as he could tell, but that suited him just fine. There was plenty to study here, especially when another body lay claimed by the lingering winter.

That wasn't to say Shroud himself pulled the life from those bodies. Malice wasn't in his blood.

The young man's keen lavender eyes focused suddenly as another's scream pierced the icy atmosphere. Large alabaster paws suddenly propelled his gracile figure over the unforgiving snow, toward the direction of the cry. It appeared to have come from the direction of the nearby river, and, as far as he could tell, had been the utterance of another of his kind.

The ice-laden waters soon came into view, and he slowed his pace. Silas stopped, the logician's head erect, cooly surveying the landscape. There. A pale figure, wounded, struggling against the bank. Who?

Exhaling sharply, he propelled himself forward once more. Had the other fallen through the ice? He appeared to be on the bank's edge now.

Shroud hesitated, uncertain how the figure would react to his sudden approach. He looked bedraggled and scarred. What was his mind state like?

"Do you require aid?" he called out in deep, crisp tones.

His cry was not without consequence. The noise was enough to draw things, no, one thing to them. A loner, a stranger, a man. Even in a much nimbler form he finds more mass compared to Hiro. There was no distinctivness to be found in his appearance. When many a man come to your call in life, uniqueness is rare to come by. As with those men, the nomad is no less guarded here.

Hiro lifted their paw from the water. The cool air that greeted wet fur made the nerves go numb. He could hardly feel himself slamming it into the earth as he privoted to face a lilac gaze.

I do not. A cold response contrary to their battered appearance.