Northstar Vale green microfiber cloth

@Jazz !

It was a cold morning as he meandered among the trees, both the standing and the fallen, the latter of which he leaped over or climbed under, their icicle-laden branches grazing his spine. He knew not of the terrible twister and the wake of devastation it left behind in the wilds, but he was wise enough to know that it was the power of wind that bid the forest to lay down like this.

He approached a small stream, its surface distorted with a thin film of ice but beneath it the gurgling flow of its current could still be seen in the bubbles that drifted by, and the occasional bit of leaf. He bent down, touching the ice tentatively with his nose, testing it. His ears twitched to the faintest crackle. One slap of a heavy paw was all that was needed to shatter the fragile ice layer, and his muzzle descended toward it to leisurely lap at the exposed water. He enjoyed the cool taste as much as he appreciated the quenching of his thirst.