The blizzards brought something extra this year, something arguably worse than ice and freezing cold. A giant of a wolf was following them, blowing into Moladion on the heels of one particularly nasty storm. His thicker fur blocked out most of the cold that tried to penetrate it, allowing him to be out and about in such conditions. A useful advantage provided by his decidedly more Northern heritage. He moved languidly through the snow, unhurried and unconcerned. He would find a temporary den soon enough, something that would suit his needs before he found somewhere a little more permanent, but for now his only concerns were familiarizing himself with this place.

He slinked along the rocks of the Crags, moving through the terrain like a shadow. Molten eyes squinted against the winds, keeping an eye out for any morsels that were stupid enough to make a move during such weather. He needed frequent meals to sustain his considerable bulk, which meant snapping up just about any prey, big or small, that the behemoth happened to come across. His weight shifted a rock to the side, a frightened mouse scurrying out from under it. He snapped his jaws shut on the little animal, growling quietly to himself. It wasn't much, but it would do for now.

He kept moving after his mini meal, looking for a higher vantage point to survey the land from. Thankfully it seemed that he was the only one brave or foolish enough to be out in such conditions, and for that he was glad.