December 2nd; Early afternoon; Overcast; 20 ° F, -6 ° C.

Since Veho's terrible streak with what seemed like bad luck, Rook had kept his distance, believing that it had been his mere presence that had brought on a bout of misfortune. Snow brought on by the onslaught of the first winter storms blanketed the deepest parts of Cedarwood; and, it was apparent now just where his pack mates typically roamed. Tomen and Nineva, who were not so little anymore, even used these high traffic pathways now and it was hard to distinguish their trails from the rest of the adults. His frostbitten nose had just picked up on Quil's path when he spotted a pile of leaves not too far from where he stood.

His bearish ears perked up and he deviated from his beloved's trail, immediately picking through the frost-covered heap. Some time ago his father might have curled up within it, or so he liked to believe. Within the center of it was a depression that was just wide enough for him to settle down into; but, instead of just stepping into the middle of it all, he started to push the scattered leaves at the edges inward. Brushing the snow from the leaves proved to be a fruitful endeavor - where he had thought there could have been more pine needles were more leaves instead, strange shapes that had been blown in from neighboring regions (heart-shaped leaves from the Creek, willow leaves from the east, and other specimens from the Grove and beyond). What stood before him in a matter of minute was an impressive mound of forest debris that crinkled and rustled upon being approached.

The Leader's tail wagged as he considered his feat then, without much thought thereafter, he sprang forward, plopping right into the pile of leaves. It had been tall enough for the leaves on either side of Rook to crash back down on top of him; the leaves had practically swallowed him whole, leaving him with only his black-tipped tail exposed against the stark white snow.