Blackfoot Forest when i meet charon

the coywolf drawls in a breath, footfalls ceasing at the sheepish and rough voice that reaches out to him. he turns to face the other creature, just in time to see a chunk of snow plop onto his head from a low hanging, heavy laden with snow branch. the laugh that tore itself from raptor's throat was involuntary but he even so he offers no apology. doesn't even have the decency to look sheepish about it, either.

what's it to you, unfortunate stranger? the fearghal inquires, accent a lilting brummie like his father's: smoky and raspy. despite the words that could've been barbed there is a undeniable amount of amusement in them instead.