For Mama @Clover~
January 29th; Morning, after daybreak; Overcast Clouds, 7.2 ° F, -13.78° C
Since the turn of the new year, Oleander had been very much the same. Solitary in his ways, he did as best as he could to keep it that way - day in and day out. His sisters had not returned. In knowing that he supposed that the innate need for seclusion was a part of him. Most days, he scurried about the riverbanks and through the frozen underbrush. He brought anything useful back to Clover's infirmary. His knowledge of nature had developed into a decent stock of practical information. Anything he found that his mother could not use he brought back to a small foxhole of a den close to where he had been born.
These days, his visits to the innermost part of the pack lands were few and far between. He liked to think he had begun to embrace some sort of pseudo-hibernation.
Golden eyes greeted the morning, a half-lidded gaze surveying his surroundings. In the thick of winter, there was little to scavenge. He knew his mother would have no use of anything already dried and brittle. He lifted a paw and scraped it across the hard-packed frost. There was nothing but wet, lackluster pebbles and icy silt. He supposed he had the energy to ice-fish today, but something in the wind told him to wait.
Along the bubbling, rushing rapids, the yearling straightened, ears up and tail level. He listened...