@Quick (post-join/hunt thread; feel free to wait until that thread is wrapped up, I just wanted to get this up while I had time)
The winter never seemed to let up. How many months had it been now? How many days had gone by where there hadn’t been a speck of blue in the sky, no flake falling from the clouds? It only seemed to let up now, suddenly, as the sun had disappeared from the sky, dragging with it the clouds that had separated the wolves from the heavens. Although there were no clouds in the sky, no snow descending, it was cold…Dangerously cold. As he patrolled the borders, knowing full well that they would not be likely to face any intruding strangers in such damnable temperatures, he felt his toes begin to ache with the temperature.
He left his mark as he went, both quite visibly and in the form of strong odors. Flecks of bark littered the snow as he would drag his paws or a cheek roughly over the tree trunks, leaving behind scent and sight. Chulyin thought it wise to keep moving, lest his paws fail him. He could only imagine (though tried very hard not to) curling up amongst his family in the den, exchanging warmth on this deathly night. But there were always things to be done, and he would not retire until the moon was high. And that was hours yet. Taking in a few mouthfuls of snow, his thirst was temporarily quenched. It was odd to be thirsty when it was so cold, though there was no real correlation between the two things. Perhaps the sudden lack of precipitation was what caused it, but he would not gladly welcome back the snow, preferring more to just consume it. Another twinge in his foot and he was on the move again, pretending to embrace the long evening, for otherwise, he could not get through it.
Hauling his weight upward, he racked his nails over the trunk of a tree, leaving behind his scent and that of the Keep. For good measure, he roughly pushed his muzzle along it as well, the corners of his mouth turning roughly at the mild discomfort. This must’ve been only one of many trees that he’d marked tonight. His skin was beginning to feel the effects. All four paws in the snow again, he eyed the tree he’d just marked, jaw clenching and unclenching. Peering around it, and sniffing the snow, the man realized that he’d reached the end of his patrol. Dark surrounded him as he turned his back to the borders, tail flagging, as he took a tentative step forward. Though the freezing cold threatened, the evening was so lovely…He was cautious to leave it now that he’d found himself without a task at hand.
A slow breath released delicate tendrils of silken air, the warm quickly consumed by a faint cold breeze, and he lifted his golden eyes upward, spying the moon through the twisting dead branches of the canopy. He could see it. He could truly see the moon. With ears turned back, he howled a deep and relatively quiet song into the night sky. It was not truly meant to be heard. His pack rested a ways away, deep in slumber he hoped, and if there was prey about, the lone, solemn song of a wolf could be of little threat to them now, for they were certainly as bundled as his family was. The dark man, cloaked in his element, was alone.