Clover shivered at the coldness which clung to her fur, slowly seeping down through the layers ever closer to her skin. She had gotten up at first light, before the sun even rose above the horizon, and had not realised how cold it was until she stepped out of the small hidden alcove she had found to sleep in during the nights. Her breath puffed into small white clouds as she exhaled, and her shoulders hunched as she walked to try and keep warm. She was glad her artic heritage made her well-built for winter, but that did not mean she did not feel the cold.
Her journey took her southward, back to the grove she had found not long prior, and as the sun began to rise in the sky she halted at the creek that bordered the grove. Her dark amber gaze eyed the creek as it gurgled by. Fishing was not a skill she had, and it did not seem as if the creek had any fish in it in this region, but maybe once spring came around she would try her paw at learning to catch the aquatic creatures. She gasped at the searing coldness of the water as she stepped into the creek to cross it, feeling her paws numb almost immediately. Quickly hopping to the other side of the creek, Clover lifted her muzzle into the air, sniffing the air to try and find any scent traces of prey that she could hunt.