Blackfoot Forest i'd rather drowned in misery than gone to new south wales

any/all welcome

the clouds were high along the serrated edges of the mountains when the wolf woke, stiff and slow. blearily he put a paw to his crusted eyes and wiped, as if the gesture would send his exhaustion fleeing.

their little cove, pocketed by thick briar and winterbare thrush, was empty. for a while venextos stared at the impression garait's slumbering body had left in the blue snow -- even the male's elbow and hips were outlined clearly in the soft powder. a few feet away a long slough of limb tore the snow and empty foot tracks lead outside.

venextos surfaced, stretching a single hind leg out behind him with a groan. there was a whistle in the wind and the pale wolf struck out towards the meadow at a slow clip.