Winter rolled over the Teekon Wilds, stretching onto the lands and settling in each corner of the map. The cold, as bothersome as it could be, was also revitalizing for the rust colored Ostrega. It was after all the shivering of his toes in the morning and the small clouds of fog that exited his mouth with every exhale what proclaimed he was still alive. Against all odds Ciervo had spent a good chunk of Winter, the most brutal of the seasons, alone.
More than once he had been given the opportunity, and temptation, to leave his pursuits as a lone bachelor to join a pack, but always it was his wanderlust what primed over his decisions. (an occurrence that seemingly ran in the family)
Leaving the stolen den cold and empty he began to weave away from the forest and closer to the coast. Despite the fact he kept an overall unkempt appearance, the feeling of sand and salty water over his toes was not one Ciervo considered particularly pleasant. With long strides and little care of keeping himself out of sight of any other creatures that might be lurking in the area he reached the rocky balcony that was the Ridge.
The tangy scent of the ocean accompanied with the soft roar of the crashing waves greeted him promptly, and he in return cast a crooked smile, one that despite not having any particular direction or purpose lightened the heavy cold off the Ostrega's shoulders.
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