Moonsong Glacier [BOO] In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

Fjall ventured restlessly into the glacier’s darker folds, his soft-gold coat aglow in the tendrils of moonlight that came downward unobscured by teasing midnight clouds. Though he had hoped to expel some excess energy that late late hour, his steps slowed when he began to perceive a stillness and a silence that felt unnatural in this world that always seemed filled with some song or another: cricketsong, windsong, leafsong, rainsong. There was nothing here. As if the presence of some great predator had turned nature mute in its wake.

Then the wind picked up in sweeping cold, combing forcefully through his fur. Fjall paused mid-step, catching a glint of what looked like eyes occupying the dark space between two tree trunks. Hello? Uncertainty rippled in his voice.