Duskfire Glacier you touched me like that

Since technically Rye has yet to meet Wintersbane, I'm gonna keep things vague. When that thread does go up it will be before this one, so if that gets started before this one ends the vagueness may stop.

A long, sleek and nimble body bounced in the snow, its head diving directly into the cold and emerging
with a smaller, fatter but equally as nimble body in its mouth. With one final crunch the smaller mammal 
was gone, it tail limp in the mouth of its attacker. For a weasel, the vole would make a filling meal and for
Rye, the weasel and the vole would make a wonderful snack. His body was not hidden amongst the snow
blanketing the ground but that did not deter the male from stalking the weasel, his body low to the ground
and his gait excruciatingly slow. Tawny eyes locked onto the small mammals every move, watching its 
tiny ears flicker in every direction as it listened for predators like himself. Rye was nearing striking range,
his footsteps up until then were quiet like owl wings but a patch of thick, rough snow-ice ended any 
chance for an easy meal. The weasel did not waste time looking to see what made the noise, its own 
experiences driving it forward without a second thought. Rye sighed and turned back to the boarders and
continued his personally assigned duties for that day. In no time, his chores were at an end, border patrol
was complete along with refreshing and sharpening the territory's edge. It was time for a break before he
would attempt another hunt, be it good sized or small, it did not matter he was hungry for anything.

Rye took his time getting to the water, using his small journey to familiarize himself with his new home, 
down to every crevasse and twig that peppered the ground. It wasn't long before he found himself at waters
edge, his tongue already lapping up what it could. His eyes closed as the cold water slide down his throat and
into his belly, a near addicting feeling Rye took his time enjoying it. After quenching his thirst Rye spotted 
something, it appeared to be a wolf but something was different about them. At first the inner territorial side of
the male took over, demanding in his mind just who they were and what they were doing in his land. However,
he had trust in his packmates to ensure the security of their land, his conclusion came as swiftly as his assumption.
They must be someone he has yet to meet. Forcing his hackles down, Rye moved to meet the mysterious female.
He approached loudly as to not scare the female if she did not know he was around, furthering his attempt with a 
throat clear. "Hello, it seems we've yet to meet. My name is Rye but people usually call me—" In his attempt
to appear somewhat suave he managed to back himself into a stupid corner, he had no nickname. "Rye.. Everyone
calls me Rye." Embarrassment engulfed him and he silently swore to stop being an idiot.  

'Good one genius, next time just stick with a name'

 "What's your name?" He quickly added.