Permafrost Hollows you cannot swallow a life that large

no problem! <3

patrolling is an effortless routine to wintersbane, therapeutic in some ways. he keeps his ears, nose and eyes alert for anything that seems out of ordinary, awakening the primal and feral instinct as his mind switches to a version of night mode to allow him to ruminate upon events and categorize them. an umbra ear twitches back, towards his left shoulder at the sound of approaching footfalls from within the hollow. too light to be derg and he thinks it is either the engimatic girl, keen or his gladiator pupil, faeryn.

a glimpse is given over broad shoulder as the chuff extends to him next. faeryn, then. the silvery-blue sylph takes up his flank with an inquiry. not at all. wintersbane responds before his gaze flickers back to the neutral territory just beyond the scent markers. a shadow slinks low to the evergreen treeline — wintersbane's hackles bristle on instinct — and disappears with an eerie yip. a fox on the prowl for its last meal before it bunkered down to weather the day. his bristled nape hairs smooth and he lets out a low snort of amusement.

there hadn't been much time for them to talk prior to the fertility festival and he is glad for the opportunity to check in with her now. how're you settling? wintersbane inquires, earnest in his approach and hoping for an honest answer. things were a bit chaotic and the majority of the work that came along with founding a pack was shouldered by the three of them currently based in the hollow. it's hard work but the sotaherra is confident that it will pay off when their numbers are bolstered and they have a final claim.