Grouse Thicket Where the streets have no name

The snowy twigs and branches gave way with ease and a satisfying set of crunches.  Her paws, though, landed on something warm and soft, but with a lot less give to it compared to the feathered creature she was expecting.  Zenith reared back, trying to see what she had actually hit as the actual birds fluttered off to better hiding spots.

Coughing started as the snow and sticks settled.  That was a wolf!  Not just some furry lump of who knew what!  Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I was -- just.  Uh -- the birds...!   And uhh. --  I'm so, so so so sorry!  You could almost make out a couple of pawprints pressed into his fur -- or at least a couple of clearer spots where Zenith had landed.  Without thinking too much of it, she started to remove the larger twigs that had landed on the poor stranger, and if he stayed put long enough she'd brush snow off him with a paw as well. While doing so, she continued to profusely apologize and tried desperately to think if there was anything she could do to make it up to this random dude she'd jumped on.