Big Salmon Lake i'll strike a violent pose

Accustomed to being on his own and looking out only for himself, the lone Duskfire had no qualms about getting his own meals. The frigid, arctic air would perturb some, sending them hurrying for shelter in the warmth of a den. Not him. He was a wolf built of northern, Tundrian heritage. Born and raised on a Glacier, with mountain peaks as his backyard.

Hardy paws, thickly insulated between his digits pounded once against a thick layer of ice. On the eastern bank, he had selected a spot where the ice would not crumble under his initial weight. What he was after lurked beneath. If he were lucky, he would get a fish today. Any less than that and his prize may have to be soggy, scavenged leftovers.

For the second time, he reared up. Granite and silver wind tussled fur glinting under the dull light of winters sun. And down he came, stiff legged. Focused on a pinpoint spot of the ice. Groaning, creaking and cracking, inch by inch.