Moonsong Glacier torn butterfly wings

The glacier washed his golden figure in goosebumps. The chill of it was fierce enough to remind the bard of winter. His travels had allowed him to see glacial landmarks before, just never quite so close, so chilly.

The Taggerung trotted lazily across the cold stretch. When his eyes fell like starlight on the other wolf – the one just there in the distance – he barked a greeting and offered a wag of his tail.