Would it ever stop snowing? Once it had been a novelty, to be released from the house to go visit the bears and cats whenever Steevo decided to do the rounds, but now? Urgh, the novelty had worn off a long time ago.
Had the boy a lick of sense he might have known that all these months the pair had been traveling north, and had they headed south they would be a whole lot warmer. Instead, they wandered whatever direction looked good on any given day, often doubling back over terrain they had already crossed. They ate carrion when they could find it and moaned about aching stomachs when they couldn't, and now that their winter coats were beginning to shed, with the lack of Shazza's brush to make them stunning, the pair were a very sorry, tufty, skinny sight indeed.
His stomach gave another gurgle, at this rate they'd be having full blown conversations and a low rumbled Oi, was all he had the energy to offer in an attempt to placate his hollow sides. He'd had to leave Crash behind so he didn't hit the bastard but it wouldn't take him long to catch up, with a big trench left in his wake all the work had been done for the faster brother.
In the meantime, he was going to try and shut his bitching guts up. Bash's silver head lifted as his nose worked overtime trying to track down an easy meal, one paw placed in front of the other with no mind to where he stepped. He couldn't know that he was standing on a marsh, or that the next step would send him plunging through thin ice and into water up to his chest.
"Fuckin! Shitfuck!" he unleashed a startled string of curses, attempting to drag his sodden arse out of the water but only breaking away the edges of the ice as he tried to pull himself up. "This is FUCKED!" he declared rather loudly, uncertain if there was anyone around to hear. All he wanted was a bowl full of Shazza's burned leftovers and a comfy couch to chew. Was that too much to ask?!