Silver Creek Chestnuts roasting on an open fire [m]

He was doing well. Better than he thought he would at avoiding her scent. It was hard to have it so strong within the lands, but doubly hard on top of the existing attraction. He was upwind of the pack lands now, relishing in the air that was clear of her intoxicating scent. He thought that with luck he could stay here, perhaps the winter winds would be kind to him. If they changed, he'd have to change position himself. Hopefully her heat wouldn't last much longer than this, he couldn't take much more.

He was proud of his willpower though. So many males spoke of how heat tempted them beyond common sense. He hadn't yet been face to face with Spring, of course, but he was also proud of himself for managing to avoid that temptation. The snow covered the ground now, perhaps about ankle height, so he had made a home under a nearby spruce tree. The lower branches dipped to touch the ground and it had been simple work to bite off the ones that would restrict his head-space. Less simple had been cleaning the sap from his fur.

It wasn't nice enough that he was considering leaving his old den, or bringing the elk tail here...but it was decent for the short time of waiting out Spring's heat. It also gave him a nice refreshing scent of pine, which, funny enough, seemed to aid in his hunting. He was eating within his tree-castle now, crunching the remains of a winter hare that had fallen to his scent-concealing tactics. The wind whistled around the tree, and he thought that it might snow again as night fell. It didn't stop him from hearing the footsteps approaching, though.

​ He assumed it to be another member of the pack, so deep in Silver Creek, and he didn't rise to check who it was. If they wanted him, they'd either call out or stick their head in his tree-house. He hadn't covered any of his tracks entering the tree. His ears flicked attentively forward, but he continued to eat.