Bitterroot Valley drifting, drifting, drifting

It was sweet to think that so cold a breeze could be so gentle. The wind came from the North, bone-chilling and dry, and swept up the short grey fur of Lucani, from her elegant paws all the way up her towering form. She stood with her muzzle to the wind, looking regal for a moment though on the inside she was humble. Her sense of smell was on high alert, silently searching the afternoon for the scent of a rare moss that would make an excellent addition to her new cache of medicinal plants.

But there was no such moss to be found. She was unsurprised. It was rare, and the Winter was unrelenting. But the day was beautiful nonetheless, the pale golden sun high and blazing, the cold sky blue above the great ragged landscapes beyond Sleeping Dragon. Lucani had very recently joined the new pack upon the mountain called Sleeping Dragon, but was currently beyond its borders.  Thuringwethil had introduced her to young Snacha, and the pack showed signs of growing further. Lucani was looking forward to that.

After all, socialisation was her lifeblood. She was fine with wandering the land alone, seeking herbs and plants as she was doing now, but most of time she preferred being in the company of others. Drinking in their personalities, admiring their characters, helping where she could and being a part of their stories. Stories were happening all the time. In fact, a new one began at this very moment as a shift in the wind caused a snowdrift in the fir tree above her — and sent a whole barrage of snow landing — flump — right on her head.

I'd love for @Snacha to hop in at some point if available, but the more the merrier!