Hideaway Strath Nearly lost

Though it was day, Hemlocke was out. It was rare moments like these, deep within the dark and snowy depths of winter, that the hellhound was able to move during daylight hours. Yet, no day.

Hemlocke was tired, completely off his schedule by being awake now but happy, wonderous of his ability. Otherwise he would have already been within the tunnels Nyra now called them to. 

The snow coming down heavier, the sky nearly blackened as though by a complete smoke, Hemlocke made way into the cavern to settle at Nyra's side. On the wind is warning by Mother Nature. He tipped up his black muzzle and sniffed the icy winds. The end is near. A foreboding warning, perhaps more so then intended. But the storm would end what life remained from Autumn's grasp.