Heron Lake Plateau Got your number

It was growing cold. He was not a fan of such weather — herbs died then, animals went into hiding — but it did provide him the chance to perform some experiments that he could not do any other time: how long did it take for bodies to freeze a tail length under the snow, two tail lengths? Could wolves smell limbs underneath far underneath the snow? Was it possible to wake a bear in hibernation (that one he had not tried, but he was up for the challenge if he had another volunteer)? The elkskin bag he held was wearing down on his neck, he placed it down for now, feeling his neck click as he rolled his head back and forth. The wind blew, and a scent battered into his face; a wolf. A female no less. Bastian smiled, grabbing his bag once more and trotting to the smell, the smile still plastered on his face as the noble woman came into view. Immediately, he imagined the contrast of blood against her snow-white fur, but he pushed the vision aside for a mask of friendliness. Guten Tag, Fräulein! Are you from around here?