Moonsong Glacier my fingers laced to crown,

Z out!

The feline fought against gravity as he came crashing to the earth, struggling as soon as his weight touched down on a plane of ice and snow without grabbing the golden-furred wolf in time; he hissed a small noise as he tucked his limbs beneath himself for another attempt, but had to veer in a new direction as both wolves took flight from him — and then it wasn't a matter of lunging or fighting through the snow, it was keeping track of their path. Such a thing took time and effort and Zugzwang was incited by their presence enough to lack the paitence for it. He charged after them, the scent of wolf heavy in the air, and began to gain some momentum — only to have that golden spark snuff out in the snow, somewhere. One moment it was there, glinting and racing away, and the next — he loosed a sharp caterwaul filled with his frustration and watched his surroundings for signs of movement. The longer he waited the more impatient he felt, and so Zugzwang was easily distracted by the movement of birds in the trees or the crackling of a heavy branch in the woods; he spun in a new direction and tore along, eager to set his teeth and claws upon any flesh he came upon. Luckily for the wolves, he would bypass their hiding place and they would survive this.