I trail leisurely through the bitter terrain, reducing ever so slightly in the snow; my lime emerald optics observes the elegant indents left by my sandy paws. The coldness seems to dwindle up my pillars, chilling me to the bones and I cannot help but shudder. My sandy pelt is enclosed in a sheet of indulgent snowflakes; I adore the feeling of snow. They are the silent falling feathers of the sky, the silent falling paw prints of the sky – all unique. They are able to glide down, floating in many different directions before becoming one. They are like group animals in reality; trailing their paths and options before roosting in a pack. Speaking of packs – I should join one soon. It is always good to have pack to fall back upon. I have never resided in a proper home before; a proper pack is somewhere you feel safe and happy in… I have known none of these… But I must not stray on that thought for long – that will all be in the future. My optics absorbs the scenery around me but all I can see is white, all I can smell is a pungent scent of coldness- lovely.
A swift breeze sweeps past me, my sandy pelt is disturbed in the process of the wind. My fragrance will accompany the wind to the on-going travellers. As I advance gently through the area I have found myself in, a loud voice rings into my towers. He talks unusually; through a thick accent that I cannot pin point. My optics survey the area in attempt to find the talker. The voice is high and cheery with no hostile atmosphere that I can locate. ‘What brings you out into weather like this, мой подсолнечника?’ My eyes cringe, brow furrowing. Sunflower -- what type of nickname was that? I see two blue, if slightly violet eyes inspecting me and then I perceive his furry pelt with extensive limbs attached to it. My maw tweaks into a slight smile, it seems I have dawdled into the company of an eccentric brute. “Hello,” I communicate uncertainly. “I fancied a stroll… I am Yonna – and who might I be talking to?” I do not speak a lot; I have never been a strong talker but I speak enough to create a conversation. I move closer, settling in front in front of the well camouflaged tyrant.
There is nothing that frightens me against this brute; he seems ordinary enough. Although the one thing that catches my attention as I examine him, is the striking eyes he possesses. Never in my days have I caught view of such beautiful eyes. I say nothing as I wish not through incorrect signals his way. With a small sigh I stare around me – he certainly seems to fit in with the landscape. I am almost at the point of emerging into the snow although I have a sandier pelt. The tyrant intrigues me; he is rather unusual - although perhaps I have not encountered enough wolves?
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