Black Morass frostbite

Euron was a decent mouser, but Ramsay was nothing of the sort. He was a strong tracker, but tracking was only useful when you had the skills to take down the prey, and he was short on both practice and interest. So when instructed to search for mice, Ramsay put his nose to work for a short while, but the recent snowstorm had done more than just hinder their progress and drive the temperature down to freezing levels. Any trace of recent prey was trapped beneath the snow. He could make out the smell, faintly, but couldn't follow it, and eventually he gave up.

He found Cicero's path instead, and stepped along in his father's narrow prints as best he could at a choppy pace to avoid the softer earth around it. Euron, for the time being, was left behind; if anyone would find a mouse after a snowstorm, it was his fox-faced brother. He ignored a pang in his heart as his mind wandered to Maegi, and then he didn't have to consciously think about it more, for he had caught up to the injured Cicero, and a completely unfamiliar wolf nearby. Up until now, they hadn't really encountered anyone, and the sight of someone new made his hackles prickle uncomfortably.

Ramsay was hardly capable of protecting Cicero from any fully grown wolf—even half a year from now he wouldn't stand a chance against a mature canine—even a slight thing like Delight. Even so, he sought to close the distance in case it came to that.