Leith trudged through the lowlands, snow falling down from overhead despite the warm temperature. Well, warm compared to what the weather had been for several months, and warm to a wolf like him who had a thick undercoat courtesy of his arctic heritage. He’d loath the months of summer that would come, because despite the admittedly prettier scenery he was not built for the sweltering heat. Plus, his thinner fur made him slightly less handsome. Only by a little, though.
The ground under paw was an icy mixture of snow and mud, some of the snow having melted from the sun’s rays but still cold enough to make your pawpads ache. It made his legs and underbelly muddy, something else he couldn’t quite say he enjoyed. Lee was far from a prissy man, he could pal around with the best of the brutes, but he did have a certain decorum he liked to maintain about himself. After all, being this handsome took work. So, he meandered over the Kettle Pot Pond to grab a drink and freshen up, his black smudged muzzle dipping down to lap at the crystal surface and wincing slightly as the frigid liquid slid down his throat.