Hushed Willows i dreamed about the ghosts

He wasn't quite sure what to make of these earliest days of winter. He remembered snow and cold vaguely from his earliest youth, but that had been too early for him to form any concrete opinions on it. So far, and this early in the morning, prevailing thought seemed to remain wholly unimpressed. But, Stark's approach distracted him; he picked up his head a little more and blinked away more of his sluggish fatigue. The dark alpha's company was alright with him, perhaps in part because he had never felt pressured about his want to keep to himself after everyone had left. Silas' posture was humble anyway, and in greeting, he wiggled his tail against the inside of his hocks.

"Hey. Not quite," he replied before glancing away sheepishly. "But almost. It wasn't that bad when I went to sleep out there.." he grumbled softly, and evidently he'd tired himself out enough to not wake up before the cold got that bad. Noted, for future purposes.