Winter was coming.
It was creeping in on silent paws that left the world covered in a soft blanket of powdery white snow. Cottongrass decided that he liked it. And while he liked the warmer months like summer and spring more than he did the cold — winter wasn't too bad. It was just different. Full of drastic changes and transformation.
His tail wagged and he continued his shuffle forward. He crept between spindly trees with ease and only stumbled on some of the roots hidden beneath the snow. It was a good day. The air was crisp in his lungs and the skies overhead were clear. He could hear the distant rumble of rushing water and the sound of his own breathing along with the crunch of his own footfalls over packed snow.
He was content to spend the day that way. Just wandering aimlessly through the forest with an empty mind. Maybe later he could make himself useful and look for something interesting. Askan did tell him he was a scout. And it was hard to believe that he was a pack wolf. That he was the Third of Shallows Edge and he mattered. But for now he wanted to focus on the quieter topics. Like whatever he could find while he was on his nature walk.
In his wake he left a single row of big, round paw prints. His tail never once stopped wagging behind him.