Lost Creek Hollow and blinking, step into the sun

Attention: @Gannet!
Weather: 18˚ Clear throughout the day.

Rannoch had an itch that couldn't be satisfied. An hour had been wasted, and the discomfort still prevailed; he was growing desperate. Ocean-like eyes darted across the blanketed territory, and wisps of breath danced from his muzzle. An inkling emerged unexpectedly from his silent contemplation: he hadn't attempted to use a tree trunk to his advantage. Without hesitation, Rannoch eagerly sought the nearest stalk. 

He rubbed himself against the rough hide and felt relief almost instantly. "Ahhh," he sighed, leaning into the bark as he wriggled his shoulders. In time, Rannoch hoisted himself onto his hind-legs so that he could scratch both shoulders at once. As far as he was concerned, he was occupied for the foreseeable future—he had finally found the remedy to his dry skin.