Duskfire Glacier at the edge of the world

i always have time! <3

though wintersbane desires to keep moving; on patrols, watching the herds that call the neighboring territories home, working on caches or fumbling hunts because of his healing leg ...he also knows that his body requires rest. perhaps that's why, instead of rising before the dawning of the new day he allowed his eyes, heavy; to close and the world of dreams to lure him back into slumber. greyfall caverns provided ample shelter, though the smell of algae and damp earth and rock had taken some time to get used to, wintersbane found himself rapidly growing desensitized to it.

face buried in the soft fur of the lynx pelt he took off of a corpse he found ( died of natural causes, wintersbane assumed for he'd smelled no sickness upon it nor no wounds as he sectioned off the meat to the food caches ). it would make good bedding for cubs — if he should find himself fortunate enough to sire them this year — but for now he secreted it for himself.

he stirs at the sound of approach; stretches carefully as not to disturb the mending flesh of his leg and yawns before rising to his paws and moving from the cavern he's claimed as his den to greet iana with a low chuff in the dark.