Just when Lorcan had thought that the winter weather had finally passed, he woke up only to find that it had snowed heavily overnight. A sigh left his lips as he left the warmth of the communal den, causing a cloud of hot steam to curl up from out his his parted charcoal lips. Snow was exactly not what he wanted now that both Piety's and Lenae's litters were less than two months away. He had planned to begin searching for plants, roots and fungi that he could cache away in preparation for the birthing, and anything else that might happen in the meantime, but with the ground now hidden beneath a thick layer of crisp, white snow the healer doubted that he would have much luck in finding anything now.
Still, the scarred male forced himself remain optimistic. He loped through the territory, stopping only to lap up a quick drink from the tarn, before breezing past the borders into the surrounding wilderness. Lorcan travelled away from the claimed lands in a south-westerly direction, towards The Wildwood where he had been lucky in finding useful medicinal plants two times before. From this new angle of approach, coming off of the mountain slopes, he had spotted an area of the woods that he was certain he had not explored before.
It was unmistakable, the air was clouded with the scent of a nearby pack, one which was unfamiliar to him. However, now as he strolled slowly through the uneven field, his attention was drawn elsewhere as he gazed at the charred, blackened trees with grim fascination. Something else also caught his attention. Large mounds, or rather, rolls of snow scattered the spaces between the dark shadowy trees — appearing like giant mountain goats grazing on a forgotten, ashen wasteland. The whole scene was spooky, eerie, to look at. Yet all Lorcan could do was stare...