Lake Rodney crow feathers

This land was splendid! There was so much to it—better than the deserts, at any rate. It was wild here. There were things growing which he had never seen before, and many which were familiar, and still others which Boreasz wished to investigate but found he could not, as the snow had either buried, frozen, or killed what was discovered. He had tried to dig at a particular sour smell, as it reminded him of the sour grapes of home and he was pining for a good drink—but he did not have the patience for it, and abandoned the effort swiftly enough.

Upon abandoning this, Boreasz moved further south and then found an animal trail winding among the pines, leading to a whited-out landscape; there he spied a roaming shadow, which piqued his interest until he focused his eyes beyond them—seeing the shimmering, glassy surface of the lake. He was not much of a fisherman, but he was hungry.

He waited there for the shadow to drift along, and then rounded through the trees and towards the shores of the lake, listening for a moment... Then dropping his chin towards the surface, so he could drink deeply. The rush of ice-water down his throat was a bit painful, then numbing.