Verdant Basin Every single day

He stepped lightly over the thick snow crust, the cold weaving it's way through his thick fur and chilling his bones.  A quick trot of a pace had some warmth gather in his limbs, but still the cold chilled him. Soon, he found his run to take him outside the border, and he altered his course so that he may head due north, curious to what may lay that way. 

As he ran, the crisp cold carved a stinging path to his lungs, his breath a cloud before him. A dark form upon the otherwise snowy white caught his attention, and he neared, slowing as he approached. A group of chickadees took fright at his approach, alighting all at once with an angry chittering. He found it to be a corpse, covered in a layer of snow a frost. A fox, fallen prey to the cold. His gaze roamed over it, falling on he marks the chickadees had made trying to puncture the tough, frozen hide. Deciding a meal in the winter was never one to ignore, he settled on his haunches and begun to worry to flesh with his fangs, tearing strips of sinew and flesh from the thing and chewing them slowly. Nothing like the warm, fresh flesh of a summer hunt, but the winters hunger had the ability to make almost anything taste better than it was.