Afternoon - Partly Cloudy, Strong winds, -1°C/31°F
A frigid wind was whipping through the Backwater, snaking along the creek and rattling the still naked trees. The sun was out between scattered clouds, but offered little warmth, just a bright reflection in the snow. Still, Vasco was out for his daily jog, following the stream at a steady trot, only pausing briefly now and again to drink from the icy water. But he was keeping a good speed, pleased with his performance, despite the stabbing in his lungs – which might as well be the cold air as a sign of remaining weakness. He was taking one of his breaks, not far from the center clearing of the pack, when an especially strong gust of wind hit, rustling his fur. But that wasn’t the only thing jostled, the surrounding trees creaking loudly, even after the wind had settled. Attention drawn by the sound, Vasco turned in time to see dead trunk – previously supported by one of the still living trees – give way, sliding to the ground with an audible crack. Bronzed ears flattened back, eyes wide as he watched the cloud of snow blow into the air and carried off on the wind. Just as he thought the show was over, a russet shadow suddenly darted from the under the fallen trunk, running straight at the wolf with surprising speed. Startled, Vasco stepped backwards until his paws were on the very edge of the water, rearing up his head. But the creature stopped a few leaps before reaching him, apparently noticing its mistake. Frozen in place, he finally recognized it as a squirrel, now staring him down with pinprick eyes, no doubt as startled by the turn of events as the wolf. . Thoughts ”Speech” |