The Heartwood i've loved everything about you that hurt

Mal matched the territory around him fairly well in this part of the year -- he was a creature of snow, ash, and charcoal, perhaps an apt description given his life so far.  He hadn't been blessed with joy in this life, still under whatever curse must have been placed on him soon after his birth.   And he was never the ghost that was expected, and certainly not one that was wanted.

But hey, Mal was out and about, checking briefly for more distant prey in lands that probably weren't frequented too often.  If there was none, he could focus on what was on his doorstep rather than saving it for a rainy day.  Snowy day?  Whatever.  He'd managed to find and scarf down a vole or something like that before he'd reached these woods, but now that he was here, Mal was yet again unimpressed.

He moved along at a good pace, trotting so it could be over and done with sooner rather than later.  There was nothing.  Nothing, nothing, nothing.  Wait.  A veer towards the thing on his periphery and then the yearling came to a stop, ears forward, eyes locked upon the tawny-hued wolf that had appeared from behind one of the torched trees.  Squint.  Well, he seemed oddly familiar, but it had been so long Mal couldn't be sure.  He took a couple more steps forward, watched, and waited for a reaction because he was the best social butterfly in the world.  At least Mal was probably pretty hard to overlook.