Two Rivers Isle spikeroog

Massive paws forged the karhu's way through the blanket of snow that swathed the earth.  He loped with his chin tucked against his chest, eyes slit to protect himself from the biting wind that accosted him from every angle.

It was a cold winter, for sure.  For whatever reason, the further north he trekked prey seemed to become more abundant.  The first trail he'd followed ended in failure as he slid upon the frozen ground, yet the second was a resounding success.

He ripped flesh and sinew, quickly scarfing up the hare before tugging off a bone to carry with him — they were good to pass time.

Troy did not have to travel far before the scent of one, maybe two, came before him and just as with the girl from earlier he tracked them down out of curiosity.  He almost missed him — white wolf in white snow, but a flick of an ear gave him away and keeping a respectable distance, Troy stood (a brown-blonde blot against the pearlescent earth) and made himself known.