Overture Downs It's Foregone

Withdrawing his mouth from the stream, Reek's muzzle dripped with water in the frigid air. The cold, it threatened to freeze his mouth shut on the spot— or at least, that's how it felt in the moment. The biting chill of winter worked it's way into his very bones. He whined and buried his face in his forepaws in a fruitless attempt to bring warmth back to cheeks, but as long as his face remained damp, the cold was there to stay.

He snorted with displeasure and pulled his head away from the sanctum of his forepaws after an uneventful moment. His vison, blury from previously shutting his eyes, eventually focused out in the distance, where he noticed a wolf who appeared to be tracking a trail.

Reek did not speak or shout. He only watched with curious intent.