Fairspell Meadow smells like teen spirit

Brittle brown grasses poked above the iced-over snow, atop which Voodoo ranged easily, though not without complaint. His feet hurt, he was hungry, and he was cold. He had come a long way to see these Teekon Wilds, and thus far he had seen nothing to impress him but snow, snow, and yet more snow. If he had wanted to see snow, he'd have stayed home like Hex.

He muttered as he walked, a bitter diatrabe about his own bad decisions and the horrible weather. Somewhere in the middle of the field over which he walked, though, the sun had melted the snow just a little more. One of his paws fell through, causing him to topple over onto his face. Fuck me! he shouted, loud enough to scare off several nearby birds.