Moonspear old growth fortress

A wet winter would prove to be more annoying than he let on. While he too was no stranger to snows that provided tiresome depths, he had his fair share of easy seasons here and there. Summer by far was not as warm here as where his origins began, but here the seasons were pronounced and heralded. Even now the skies drew attention to such change, at least for those aware enough to pay attention in the first place.

Dirge reclined to his haunches as he surveyed past her to where stone and wood alike melded with sky, though his gaze did not wander far. "We have that in common—of wanting the snows to be over and done with. The first dusting has a certain charm I suppose, but any more than that and the heaps are a hindrance. Not too much a fan of the damp either, but who likes a chill in their bones?" No wolf that he knew of, though there was no question some were better suited for it.