Permafrost Hollows begin again

It was mere happenstance that she came across the impromptu meeting of the fever-pelted angajukKâk and the stranger crafted of silver mists -- somewhat perplexing to the shaman. Even from a distance, the moonlit he-wolf moved like a man. But it was his scent, cloaking and musky but not entirely masculine that confused the she-dog's sensitive nose as she approached. 

Selkie had only meant to patrol the borders that morning, as Wintersbane had tasked her with doing before their formation, but the game trail of an injured muskrat had led her towards the Hollows of ice. But the odor had been lost to the mud and she had been distracted by the smell of the Glacier Alpha, the whisper of his greeting echoing through the woods and drawing forth the speckled Gamma.

There was something cold, tundral even, in the bone-white male that had wandered near which inspired the shepherd to take up a place near Wintersbane's star-speckled haunch and offer a soft noise of greeting herself. Tuliped auds of buttermilk rose towards the unfamiliar man, seaglass gaze curious and alert.