Willow Ridge this must be the place

Evening, Extreme Cold Warning | Snowing Lightly, @Scully

Had he slept any longer, the snow dusting might have covered him entirely over, even from the spot he had chosen to sleep underneath the willow trees. Lifting his head to have a look around, it took a moment to remember that @Avella and @Hagar had left for the mountains, and silently he hoped their journey was going well. It wasn't so much the neighboring pack he had been worried about; it was the journey itself. Had he thought correctly, the pack wasn't far, but it required a climb upwards, and winter weather was fickle... After a moment of quiet thinking, Moore stretched his legs and back out before rising to his paws.

Over the last month, he'd begun to feel more rejuvenated. Being in a pack on a more permanent basis felt nice, and while during his nomadic wanderings he had thought he felt fine, there was definitely a change in his health, physically and mentally. Giving his thick fur a quick shake, the cocoa-furred wolf scattered the snow into the air around him and bolted off. Moore plowed through the snowdrifts, not towards any particular direction, and not entirely paying attention to where he was going. His paws would carry him where he needed to be.

Scully couldn't help but be drawn to Moore's trail, following it through the forest of skeletal willows to find the larger wolf. His crush had yet to fade, and in his experience it wouldn't - not until he was able to get it out of his system, so to speak. As such, he could be found making plenty of excuses to spend time around the burly man.

He caught sight of him plowing through the snow with great speed, playing it appeared after a moment of watching, and Scully's tail lifted to wag gleefully through the air. He didn't hesitate to join in, sprinting across the drifts and turning sharply to race parallel to Moore. He flashed him a grin that was all teeth, and attempted to push ahead of the other.

Plunging through the snow still, after all these years, felt fun. Too many wolves Moore had met in his travels refused to participate in such childish activities, or not do things unless it had a rewarding outcome. Too many wolves that just let the world pass by them. And he refused to be among them. In his opinion, the world was to be enjoyed, not something to sit through until you lay down and die one day.

As such, when Scully came racing up beside him and smiled, Moore found himself returning the soot-furred man's grin with a sly smile of his own. They’d have spent plenty of time together, and if there was anything he learned, it was that the Archer enjoyed play as much as he did. Of course, the attention the Archer pointed in his direction didn’t fly beyond over his head. He was goofy, not stupid, even going as far as to throw in small, almost flirty quips in their conversations.

Spending time together or not, no way in hell was he letting Scully win the impromptu race, and continued to plow forward, trying to stay ahead. Briefly, the larger man thought about bumping the other with his shoulder, ultimately deciding he'd play nice. For now.

Scully was usually a fairly quick wolf, but he was failing to prove a match against Moore's raw strength. His energy burning like a fuse, he decided he would need to start getting crafty. His companion may have hesitated to use such techniques, but the Archer rarely ever paid such courtesies unto others.

He veered toward Moore, that wicked smile now parting to snap teasingly at Moore's cheeks and ears while his shoulder pressed into the other's. He hoped to trip him up in one fashion or another, and would move on to clacking his fangs at the larger man's limbs next if not successful or otherwise deterred.

He certainly was no picture of grace and elegance to begin with, but as Scully encroached on his space, Moore found it increasingly difficult to stay upright. Initially, the large man stumbled, and if he wanted to avoid face planting into slush and snow, he had to fall back into a brief trot to sort his paws out. As he regained his stability, he bolted after his mischievous friend, a sly grin on his own inky lips. Two could play that game, if that's how he wanted to play it.

Veering off slightly only for a moment, Moore began to run towards Scully, intent on body-checking him if he had the opportunity. The smaller wolf was no stranger to rough play he found, although Moore minded his strength and weight once again. There was a difference between rough play and accidentally hurting others, and he didn't want to accidentally mow Scully over and flatten him. How would he explain that to Avella?

Scully grinned widely as his antics paid off, temporarily giving him a lead. Laughter bubbled up from his chest while he awaited retaliation. The impact of Moore's paws told him it was coming swiftly, and he attempted to make the same curve as his playmate to avoid contact. His giggles had not abated, and inevitably he was pressed to pull back and cede first place to the larger wolf once again. The Archer didn't let him stay in the clear for long. His jaws nipped down Moore's flank before attempt to nab at his tail. If it wasn't enough to give him pause, Scully would pour the last of his energy into attempting to catch up and full on tackle the other man into the snow.

A warren of rabbits is hidden under a nearby tree. +3 Health