I can feel spring blooming around me; the air is warmer, the sky a more welcoming shade of blue. Even so, winter is not completely gone; it hangs on with stubborn, chilly fingers. The last snow has already melted away, and icy water flows down from the mountains, but the mornings are still colder than I would like. I am a male who enjoys sunshine and summertime. Bright mornings and long, lazy evenings. I’m all about that. But for now, I explore to keep myself both warm and occupied.
This morning I’ve been circling the lake that sits in the mideastern crater, careful to keep my toes out of the water lest I scare any fish away. My stomach rumbles gracelessly as I look out over the water, hoping to spot a wake, a splash, a ripple, a drip - anything that might indicate aquatic life that I can eat. My silver coat soaks up all the warmth that it can, though retaining a plethora of heat is not one of my greatest talents, and I squint at a ripply spot in the water, tensing in case it’s something I can catch.
A gust of friggin’ wind.
“Ahhhh!” I grunt with frustration and scrape at the sand with my claws. I’m done with this stretch of bank. The water hasn’t moved since I got here. I trot across the sand in a huff, my fur all but glistening in the strengthening sun. I move lightly, tail waving with each step, leaving shallow paw prints in my wake.
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