Blacktail Deer Plateau It's alive with the beating of young hearts

Fresh snow had fallen overnight, so that when Peregrine woke and stood, he shook white powder from his coal coat. Standing there, he stretched out his neck to sniff at the surface of the snow, then he bounded forward. His broad paws stopped him from sinking completely, yet he more plowed than ran through the friable substance. Although it was hard work—especially for a wolf still on the mend from a brutal battle—he found pleasure in the simple joy of frolicking through it.

When he reached the thickest part of the forest, the snowfall thinned down to a mere inch or two, allowing Peregrine to lope normally though the trees. His blood warm from the exercise, he took off like a bullet from a gun, weaving in between the trees and eventually reaching his top speed. It wasn't as breakneck as his sister, Osprey's, yet the icy forest whipped by on either side of him as he capered across the plateau.