Hoshor Plains Almost had it all.

Spring was in the air — well, not really, but what counted was the scent of so many women ready for a good time. He'd trailed after a few of them on the off chance he could get some action, and when nothing really panned out, Dingo had sulked a while and roamed inland. He hated winter and all that came with it. The cold, the wet, the way that easy prey became so much harder to obtain because of the deep snow. It was awful! He wanted to find a suitable distraction when he came upon the edge of a pack. This was enough to curtail his lewd thoughts for the time being; it was an opportunity he couldn't let pass him by.

He had been romping in the snow for the better part of an hour now, trying to determine where the hell the pack limits were. Sometimes he thought he'd found a marker and that got him excited, but after travelling in one direction or another, he'd lose the trail. All the snow didn't help; the overcast sky was turning a deep navy color and soon the clouds would be so thick Dingo would lose all the light, leaving him with nothing. That didn't work for him. He wasn't about to let winter win, so he kept on hunting... Until he was well beyond the territory limits, lost among the scents of wolves.