Late Evening/Early Night, ice crystals, -46C/-50F, extreme cold warning
Back on the coast to coast life
& You know I live for the hustle
Hellhound was admittedly not the best tracker. He could scheme with the best of them, and get in and out over borders quickly, even before anyone knew what was happening. He could sweet talk someone who was an enemy into being a friend, but tracking… tracking was not a beast that he could best. Which was why he had not found any of his cousins yet, and why he could not find Willow Ridge or Pookastone Scowle, despite his grandma giving him the directions at least a dozen times.
At least tonight, given how disgustingly cold it was, he had managed to track a large tree with an opening. He had spent most of the afternoon tucked inside, snoozing happily and avoiding the worst of the wind. In fact, it had actually gotten warm adjacent from his body heat. Hellhound was just yawning and stretching lazily, not much of a thought in his pretty strawberry blonde head when something caught his eye.
Ducking outside quickly, peach eyes trained on the bright ball shooting through the sky. It seemed to arch on forever, and then suddenly fizzled out before wind rushed at him, blowing his ears backwards. Even with the ears tucked backwards, the sound of cheering was mistakable which caused a look of confusion to sweep across his face, ”What th' fuck were bein' that about then?” Weird sky lights, cheering with no wolves, was this place haunted or what?