Firestone Hot Springs lakes formed in the wolf's tracks

@Aditya

The white wolf stood back from the strange sight — and smell — that greeted him. He felt as though he looked upon a place that could not be touched by winter. Peculiar fog rose from scattered pools of water had not froze even when nearby rivers and lakes were ice. The edge of snow crept only so near and then stopped, leaving green grass to still grow between the pools. He found the smell almost indescribable. It reminded him of carrion, and of foul winds from beneath a friend's tail. It wrinkled his nose.

Skwol's ears flicked back on his broad skull and a low growl rumbled in the depths of his throat and chest. His approach was curious but cautious and comprised of a few steps and then a pause to look, to sniff, and to wonder. Still he growled. This alien place reminded him of far too many horrors. His readiness to spring was evident in his twitching muscles and the jerky, flighty movements that had replaced his usual smooth saunter. That he could feel heat from the pools as he drew nearer only unsettled him more.

Skwol snorted and backtracked several paces before turning to size up the hot springs once more with an intense and scrutinizing gaze, keeping an ear turned out to listen around him.