fellow packmates? <3
dawn crawls lazy and thin across the ridges, and red moves with it. he, now, is just another dark streak along the slope, heavy-bodied and slow from the cold. there is winter frost in the blowing wind and it nips at him, much to his displeasure, and his breath plumes thick from his nostrils as he walks the perimeter.
he pauses at the edge of a half-frozen stream, lowering his head to drink. water slicks his whiskers, the cold shocking down his throat in clean bursts. his reflection looks back: older, rougher, not quite settled.
gods, was he always that... ugly?!
his morning now ruined by self-awareness, the iota snorts, shakes himself, and lifts his head, ears twitching.
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