It was rare for a day to get so cold that it truly made Cernan Vuesain uncomfortable. His coat was extra fluffy by normal standards, and especially so in winter. This morning was one he would have considered to be just chilly, as he rose from the communal den with a shake and set about quelling the hunger in his stomach. The boy was not a proficient hunter by any means, but he did seize opportunity. Thankfully, he'd the sense to stash a rabbit he'd found frozen solid under the snow the night before, and set his course straight for the conspicuous pile of scraped up powder somewhere back in the pine woods. 

Fog wasn't exactly a rare occurrence when you lived beside a mountain lake, but today it was especially obscuring and thick. Consciousness still recovering from the numbness of sleep, the prince managed to locate his makeshift freezer and found it undiscovered by other parties. Good. It was undeniably less pleasant to chomp through frozen flesh and organs when it was already so cold outside, and he would have preferred a warm, fresh kill. Still, the food did its job and the boy had no other options for the time being. Getting a meal up here in the winter was harder than at any other time; a fact he'd not truly appreciated until his second time living it. The whole pack no longer doted on he and Neha in the same way. They were expected to get their own meals as much as any other member of the Cove was, for the most part, and it had been a few days since they'd brought down an animal of substance. 

It didn't take that long for his strong, boxy muzzle to deal with the remains of the hare, but by then the prince had attracted his own small gathering of crows. They had to be hungry too, but sympathizing with birds wasn't exactly high on his to-do list. And besides, they were annoying. When it was gutted and about half gone, Cernan had had just about enough of the things. He picked up the kill, leaving a few bones and sinew to distract the creatures while he slipped away. It sort of worked, and by the time the tawny yearling had reached the den he'd decided to offer the rest of his breakfast to someone else. Perhaps @Ismena or @Lunette were hungry. 

That settled, he started a sweeping trek toward the border, just in case there were any scents or trails of trespassers to pick up. He hadn't made it that far into the pines though, when some form of movement materialized in the fog. He tensed a small bit from the uncertainty; the yearling determined that it was clearly a wolf, once his golden gaze had locked onto it, but a pack mate, or...? Now beginning to take his desired role more seriously, and with no helpful amount of scent to go on (especially with this fog,) the son of the lake turned and approached; his tail stiffening to level with his spine. 

Fortunately, what tension had begun to rise in him was dissolved as the vaguely familiar russet hues of Tagg began to appear. He dropped his tail accordingly, and slowed to a stop. The prince took a moment to further examine the man's frame, as if to assure himself that it was indeed the wolf he thought it was, and barked a low note of greeting into the murky air.