The morning was grey and cold, only a light dusting of snow still covered the ground but the winds had come down frigid from the north. On days like these the leader was thankful for his thick winter coat, though he still preferred to duck out of the drafts when they really began to pick up. It was exactly one of those times that caused Viorel to squint his eyes against the snow that picked up off the earth and pelted his face as a strong breeze blew across the Backwater.

The closest area he could see was Clover’s infirmary, and though he would normally never enter without permission he didn’t feel he had much choice. Doing his best not to trample on any herbs on his way in, Viorel ducked inside the den and out of the wind. Blinking it took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the sudden dim, pleased with how much warmer he already was.