Meadowlark Prairie Misery is contagious.

There wasn't much out here. Snow, trees, some leaf piles being quickly coated in a fresh layer of ice; no scents beyond the almost-minty flavor of the deep freeze slowly progressing over the landscape. Revui was large enough to fjord the snow piles easily enough, although some areas were deep enough to align with his shoulders at times and without the persistence of good food, he found that these patches took more effort and work to climb.

The wind was picking up—the icey, slushy snow had started its transition to something thicker and more concentrated. Soon the srea would be overwhelmed with worsening weather. Revui turned against an onslaught of bitter wind and huffed, a plume of hot air rounding along his cheekbone as it dissipated, and that was when he thought he heard a voice.

It was difficult to determine where it came from at first. The wind changed direction a few times, obscuring any scents, but after a few seconds of looking around Revui noticed a grizzled shape coming towards him. It was like watching a younger version of himself trying to fight against the elements—except they were smaller, trimmed of fat, and boisterous as they came upon him. Revui stiffened and his ears slanted on his head.

He huffed, watching the boy.