Redhawk Caldera pineflower

Right on Caracal's heels was a veritable cannonball of patchwork puppy fat, bounding through the snow with reckless abandon.

WAIT FOR ME, ASSHOLE!

His voice echoed off the icy slopes, and though he was a little more coordinated than he had been when departing the caldera, Killdeer, too, fell prey to the slippery hill.

Oh, shitballs, he remarked, almost passively, as he began to tumble.

Somewhere along the way, he bumped into Caracal, and the two of them slid in a tangle of multi-colored limbs, a stark contrast against the winter white.