Qeya River I think you should know you don't have to stay

@Thuringwethil

The fleet-footed coywolf flew across the hill leading down to the river, leaving prints in the thin snow as he went. Heavy flakes drifted down from the skies, bringing the pup inside to the forefront. Most of the time he was a composed and intelligent, if shy, young boy who did his best to impress the commander whenever he could. But sometimes the little things—a caterpillar creeping along the edge of a leaf, or young bunnies frolicking in a field, or fat flakes of snow falling to earth—brought his childish side surging forth.

Tongue hanging from snipy jaws, Ephraim wheeled suddenly in the snow and slammed on the brakes, sending himself into a sideways drift. He maintained his balance for only a few seconds before catching the edge of his feet and tumbling into an unkempt heap in the snow. The boy's chest heaved with breathless laughter while he picked himself up, and this time he sized up the slope itself. If he could go that far without an incline, imagine how far he could go downhill.

But first he needed to get some speed, so he took off again, streaking across the knoll in a blur of cream and cocoa fur.