Wapun Meadow Warmth

Two suns had set, two days of loafing about as he somewhat impatiently passed the time, waiting for his return to the meadow, to check up on his spruce-swathed friend. He trudged along at an even pace. However, when a howl rode along the winds towards his now perked ears, Frederick hurried his pace, trotting, quickly now, to the meadow. Her small figure was a dot on the horizon, and a smile grew as his tail swayed back and forth.

As he went, he matched her howl with his own, bringing his muzzle upwards as it escaped him. Low, echoing, he hoped she knew that it was conformation of his arrival. His paws carried him, white and thunderous, as he went. Milan! Frederick called, once he was close enough to be within her range. He noticed the deer pelt from the kill, and wondered what it was doing here. He came to a stop once he was a tails length away from her. If she'd allow, he'd move closer, sniffing at her nose in an affectionate greeting.

How have you been? The valley's been treating you well, I hope?