Moonspear but i always roll out alive

a change had come over the wilds - one which had perplexed arcturus once he finally became cognizant of it. birds rushed to places that had previously been quiet; their industrious songs quickly chasing the vacancy away. he had noticed burrowings of underground denizens suddenly resurfacing -- and while it was still the height of winter, the teekons were very much alive.

sitting on the stony lip that curled around his birthden, arcturus peered down the stone-tousled slope. as of late he had lost much volition to do anything except study things around him with the listless sort of energy only a depressed teenager could muster. hanging his paws off of the high promontory, arcturus stared at a band of pronghorns below -- wondering just how spectacular the snow would look if he just happened to drop a stone just so, so that whatever oblivious pronghorn beneath exploded like a two hundred pound meatbag, ready for him to swoop in and eat.

eh, as appealing as whack-a-horn sounded, arcturus couldn't manage the energy to lift a pebble -- much less a boulder -- and so, he dedicated himself to watching their slow migration west.