Stone Circle in russia yeti find you

-- the borders: morning --

The wind bayed upon the advent of morning, heralding the birth of another day with a song befitting the shrill carols of a sea-bound siren.  The sun resumed its position upon the pedestal of day, and in its mostly unspoiled presence – clouds sparingly dancing across its surface – it afforded a warmer, more congenial variation to the usual bitter chill of winter.  Being accustomed to negative temperatures, it was a tepid embrace upon his mercurial pelage – a comforting kiss upon his flesh submerged in dense, wintry furs.  He had descended from the northeast, so the change in temperature had been a mostly inconsequential presence – even the snow had been mostly unchanged in its depth – though having meandered farther from the pale-tipped mountain peaks, it was beginning to become apparent the change of topography and the overall less precarious ambiance.  The distant wailings of mammalian predators had quieted into the serene chirrups of seasonal fowl, and the dismantling of ice was a rhythmic song in an otherwise slumberous terrain.  He found it quite pleasant, a solace upon his stubby ears, which now pulled forward as he steadily approached a border that was pungent with the urine of a pack.  He paused, his monumental form stuttering as he stopped (rotund belly quivering) and he peered around with his soft, beady eyes.  Despite being ravaged from wintertide, the venue was beautiful – plains, laid bare, he mused probably stirred with mesmeric, multi-hued breath as spring approached.  He would rather like to see such a sight.

joinninggg? ;DDDDD