Duskfire Glacier Veiled

The snow was blinding, sticking fretfully to fur and lashes. The man dipped his head, turning it back toward his tail as the wind sent another round of icy daggers screaming toward his eyes. A sneer tugged at his maw, a low growl of frustration issuing from his chest. Unwise, Silas, he thought to himself, Take meteorological phenomena into consideration during your next foray!

Then, out of the colorless gloom, a black arrow struck.

. . . E R R O R . . .

Silas was catapaulted out of his thoughts as something large, dark, and very much alive suddenly attached itself to his scruff. Reflexively, his lips ripped back, erupting in a snarl of surprise as he reared back momentarily, giving himself a shake in an attempt to dislodge... whatever it was. 

... RECALCULATING...

By the next breath, the logician's reasoning had come back online, and he thrust his forepaws back into the ever-growing snow.

Squinting against the snow barrage, he recognized his potential assailant as a bird. Raven? No: this was smaller, and the upper mandible didn't have the right curve. Crow. Perhaps there was unknown cause for it, but Shroud was quickly suspecting that this wasn't, in fact, an attack. Perhaps the creature was simply as disoriented as he was amidst the chaos.

"Explain yourself!" he barked tersely, freezing rigidly in place, lest unwise actions escalate the situation. Did the creature even speak in the same tongue? He didn't know for sure - he'd never conversed with a bird before.