Bearclaw Valley it don't matter if the cold wind blows

The crow’s pursuit was strong willed; he was carried with nimble legs and a runner’s physique. It granted him speed where those bulkier would struggle. Still, she ripped across the land as if the Black Coyote was hot on her heels. Tadec was a blur of fire and smoke after her. He thought himself spry enough to catch her. Then, as though the force of the frigid winter air blew her back, she spun on quick feet and the fire of his gaze met the gold in her own for a moment before she charged. Tadec could scarcely stop himself from colliding with her, and he kicked snow into the air with his sudden halt. Breath rose from his mouth in plumes and his gaze was wide on her.
 
Indra leapt to him with her paws. The nimble coywolf reared back and fell against his shoulder, stretching his own limbs out toward her with a wild-eyed and playful expression stretched across his face. He encouraged her play with a few light yips and a shimmy of his thin figure against the earth.