Flycatcher Downs the wolf shook his coat and it snowed for days

The white wolf lifted his broad snout up toward the sky. That it was a mild and damp day could not only be felt but seen — in the snowfall. The flakes were few, but the few that lazily drifted down were big as many individuals clung together to form one.

"I don't like it," the pup complained as he chewed a clump of snow that had matted into the flossy fur feathering some of his leg. "I don't like it at all." He growled. His gold eyes flicked toward an offending flake - wide and thick and sweeping as it fell, it tempted the pup like milling prey. He lunged for it, aggressively catching it between his fangs and repeating the attack on several more.

"Do not quarrel with the change of seasons, Skwol. They change whether you want them to or not. Give in to them. Experience their influence. There is good in the winter too."

The pup looked skeptical as he stared at his mother.

"If you say so."

The corner of his mouth pulled into a small smile and his plush tail started to sway. The wolf dropped into a bow with a soft, playful rumble. Then with a woof he leapt up and surged forward, catching snowflakes as he ran and bounded through the snow. He was a pup in that moment. One that had learned he could not hold off winter with his teeth.

But he could enjoy it.