Ankyra Sound hūrenkon

With the snowfall came the ghost, as if the ice took on a mortal body. Materializing from nothing but dust. The snow would not linger long where it had fallen - and nor would he, drifting as he did. Soon enough the specter would be somewhere new again, and winter would follow at his heel. 
For now things were calm. It was not yet morning, but the full-dark of the night had faded too. There was a grayness to the world, a dullness. The forest before him was dark too - holding on to the night perhaps, willing he stay upon the beach until the sunrise - it was old, it was gargantuan, but the ghost would not be slowed. The Teekon would soon be engulfed by the winter, and he would finally be home.
The wolf would eventually find his way out from the ancient forest of giants; he would cross in to the north with the hopes of pursuing the familiar chill, that which he was most fond of. For now, the creature would linger - would haunt - until he was satisfied.