Northstar Vale green microfiber cloth

Sollie doesn’t care for the cold.  The wind is rough against her form, ruffling up her fur and making everything colder.  Sometimes she finds herself wishing for the wind, because then at least things would be moving.  The stagnant cold is the worst, though, when it’s confusing her senses, unsure of able to tell how cold it really is.  To distract herself as she scavenges and picks apart messes of leaf piles mixed with snow.  

Seeing the dark wolf up ahead almost goes unnoticed, putting him off as a shadow to something else but it’s much too far out of the ordinary.  Sollie blinks, freezing in her spot, as he breaks apart the ice cover the water.  She slinks back, lowering to the ground, waiting to determine whether or not she’s been spotting.