Moonspear But baby it's cold outside

Since having decided to stay within Aesop’s den, not a single night had gone by in which he’d felt the bitterness of winter creep along his skin. Yet, by sharing a space, he had also realized how, at times, he wished to be alone. Not for long intervals of time, of course, but there had been a night here and there when he’d wanted to sleep alone, stretched out without having to worry about disturbing his partner. For nights such as those, he’d dug a den out for himself, which is where he’d been when Zoratto had found him. With his back to the entrance and his eyes heavy with sleep, he’d almost ignored it when a voice had spoken his name. After realizing whose voice it’d been, however, he’d rolled over onto his stomach and blinked, staring at the masked face of his friend. To see him atop the mountain had been a peculiar thing, but not in a negative way. He was glad to see him, actually, which the thumping of his tail against the earth would likely convey.

“Zoratto,” he’d returned with a yawn, followed by a sheepish smile. “Did something happen? You’re on the mountain!” There had been no possible way for him to keep the excitement out of his voice, so he hadn’t even tried. The Greek had made sure to keep quiet, though, not wanting to cause a commotion and risk waking up the others.