Haunted Wood winter is coming

Hunkered down for the flash-storm, and looking almost maliciously on as her fellow wolf struggled, was a very damp and irritated Spider.

She rested beneath a carefully chosen tree, for both its thick canopy and full-bodied trunk, and yet stirred now as she felt compelled enough by the sight to venture out once more into the blooming snowflakes. Her investigation  was a slow process, and by the conclusion of it she came to stand  no closer than three wolf-lengths of him. Lest this weak-show prove to be a farce.

He was a rather poor-looking thing— nothing the small scourge would have liked to call a packmate; with all his terrible scars and apparent disabilities— but with the weather so blatantly turning, Spider felt the option of "choosy" being incontestably torn from her grasp.

Ears folded back and muzzle set grimly, the doomshadow started off waiting for him to notice her.