Larksong Grotto nagrulik-atuun

he struggled into a snow drift that was a lot deeper than he remembered it. it was over, he would be the side of sausage in this scrambled egg dish for sure. the womd boxed his ears, the cold stinging his nose as he dove deeper into the drift.
but the wolf had not come for him.
his voice reached lakhos instead, giving the scrawny coywolf pause. he had to stop to turn his head to hear him, to pull at least one ragged ear out of the wind to listen.
he made a face.
the fuck? he said to himself. he scoffed.
a fox?? a fox???
oh, no thanks, i know a trap when i see one, he went on, calling out. from there he could see the face of the wolf better, even through the tines of the branches. the wolf was snared for now, and he looked like scarred up goliath and lakhos wasn't a david. he wasn't even a grain of sand in the holy land.
have fun dying in your smelly shithole!  his tone turned mocking, a sneer fitting his features. he wanted to keep his tail thank you very much.