Swiftcurrent Creek Nobody, literally nobody

HOLY BALLS! yelled a disembodied voice into the snowstorm.

That voice belonged to one Terwillegar, a simple grey wolf with simple desires: find food, find shelter, sleep like the dead, then rinse and repeat. She liked when her days followed a predictable routine, and freak whiteouts were neither predictable nor routine.

She fought through the blustering wind and mounting snow, keeping her head down to futilely shield her stinging eyes. Exactly nothing about this situation was favourable. If there was any prey to be had, Terwillegar didn't have a hope in hell of finding it; scent trails were quickly covered up, making them too dull and faint to follow. If there was adequate shelter, she couldn't see it and would need to blindly stumble right into it.

She stumbled, all right, but it wasn't into some hidden shelter. FUCKBALLS, she screeched as a misstep sent her right down into Swiftcurrent Creek with a splash. The cold cut to her marrow in an instant.

Someone from UG maybe?

Pygmalion was well used to this kind of weather, but that didn't mean he liked it much. The sentiment that cut through the howling wind was much in line with his own. He'd rather be curled up with Bhediya, riding out the storm. Instead, he'd been hunting and was caught nearly instantly in the maelstrom.

The man squinted through the snow, forging ahead and following the cries. He eventually found himself on the opposite side of the creek from a woman submerged in it.

Shite! he exclaimed, gritting his teeth as he splashed down into the water himself. God, it was COLD! He began to shiver profusely but tried to carry on, fighting against the current to make his way to her. Knight in shining armor, innit. Here, let me help ye! Pyg called to her, working his way toward an angle where he could grasp her sodden pelt and pull her up onto land again.

What the hell was he doing? Aye, well. He couldn't bear to see someone in danger, much less someone who could benefit (and benefit from) nearby Uaine Gorsedd.

This was it. This was the end. She was going to freeze to death all because she'd tripped over some blasted rock into some shitty little stream. Terwillegar wasn't sure which was worse: dying like this, or dying like this on an empty stomach. Who wants to die on an empty stomach?

Then there was a voice as disembodied as hers was in the screaming wind and her violent shivering faltered for a bit while she cast around for its owner. Pygmalion was practically invisible in the storm, with only his dark little eyes and his nose to identify him, so Willy looked right past him when she turned her head. HELLO?! she called out just seconds before he seized her fur.

YO, watch it, you fucker, she said, thrashing in place in an effort to literally punch her assailant in the jaw. Pyg was only trying to help and Willy would figure that out sooner or later, but like ... damn. It was frightening being grabbed by someone you couldn't really see, even if you were freezing your ass off and risking hypothermia by sitting in a stream during a blizzard. She appreciated it, but also what the hell, dude.

"—you fucker—" 

He felt a sharp pain on the side of his face, their heads (he assumed) clunking together with some force. Och, what the hell?! he exclaimed loudly, growling. I'm trying to help ye oot, ye numpty! He went for her scruff again, but gentler this time, slower and with purpose.

I'm goin' tae pull ye oot of the stream, Pyg told her, voice hopefully muffled in her fur now. Do I have yer permission tae save yer life? His voice was wry but also full of urgency; they needed to get out of this water now, lest they both freeze to death.

And that wouldn't do.

Thwack was all that Willy heard when their skulls knocked together. While Pygmalion growled and swore, Terwillegar shook her head against the unpleasant ringing in her ears. That was definitely going to become a headache later.

You're a numpty! she rejoined, baring her teeth at this grievous insult. In spite of her sneer, Willy did allow Pyg to scruff her, if only because her toes were starting to go numb and she wanted out of the stream. She could probably find her own way out, truth be told, but what was the harm in letting him help? He had, after all, foolishly rushed in after her. Who says chivalry is dead?

Yeah sure whatever let's go, Willy urged, shoving back against Pyg and striking her feet out for a foothold to help propel them out of the icy water.

The insult barely phased him; he knew all too well he was a numpty, and besides, that was the least important thing right now. Instead, he began to tug, taking careful steps backward and trying to avoid slipping and falling further into the water. It wasn't very deep at this juncture, but the current was fierce. He could feel it pulling at his ankles, summoning him downstream.

Finally, Pygmalion felt his back paws touch dry(ish) land. Eyes slitted shut against the howling wind and snow, he said, through his mouthful of fur, Almost oot. Just keep walking wi' me.

Goddamn, it was cold! The water made an already intolerable day that much worse.

I'm most likely gonna send Ephraim toward UG instead since his brand of chaos might be more interesting there and Terwillegar's a little too similar to Wylla for my tastes, so we can maybe fade this or come up with some reason why she wouldn't accompany him back to UG!

They made short work of vacating the stream, and Willy regretted it almost the moment the wind touched her wet fur. DAMN THAT'S COLD, she shrieked practically into Pygmalion's ear as she made to shove past him, eager now to find somewhere away from the gale to hunker down and dry off. The both of them were courting illness out here in the cold.

She was so focused on that that she didn't really pay any attention to where she was going or what Pygmalion was saying; she pushed forward through the blizzard in search of a tight stand of trees, an abandoned den, or even just some rocks she could hide in.

That's fine! We can fade if that's easiest for you.

His ear, thus assaulted, flattened, as did the other one. Fucking hell, lassie, ye've got pipes on ye, he grumbled through her scruff, though he could sympathize with her assessment. It was cold, and he was very much looking forward to getting to the nearest shelter, wherever that may be.

Once they were settled, Pyg let her go and she was off already, pushing through the snow. Hey, wait, no thank ye or anything?! he called out, indignant. And they said chivalry was dead! Yet here he was, freezing and soaked through, and with nothing to show for it. 

Huffing a little, he followed her for a while, but eventually lost the young woman in the wall of white. He hoped she would be all right. Peeved as he was, he didn't want to see anyone die or anything like that.

This is the part where Terwillegar stubbornly pressed on into the cold, failing to find shelter and eventually growing so cold that she felt warm. Not long after that, she laid down in the snow miles from the creek and eventually passed away from hypothermia.