The light blanket of snow that fell concealed the ground with white. Paw prints were deep in the snow as the male made his way through his land. The crisp, cool air that met his nose made him shiver, his insides frozen.

Before long, the snowflakes were the size of a quarter, and the land was painted white. It settled in his fur, but the warmth was kept by the inner layer of his coat. He stood out against the white, being a timberwolf, with his greys and browns. Now, about food.

A snow hare crawled from his hole. The male stood, prowling in the shadows. A twig cracked beneath his paws, and he winced. The rabbit rose on his back paws. False alarm? Xzander continued forwards. Before he could reach it, howls broke out on the border beside his. The rabbit shot off, barreling back into his hole.

Grr.. always interuppting, he thought, straightening himself out. His hunger would wait. He sniffed around the hare's escape route, hoping to lure it out. But nothing happened. With a sigh, Xzander was off once more.

Patrolling the borders was a bore. Really. A bunch of scented trees was not an exciting thing. He touched them up here and there. Whoopie. No one had come yet, so why did it matter? These lands were uneventful. Nothing ever happened.

Vultures swirled 'round the center of his land. That was normal. They always did that. That filthy place ranked of death and decay. It could wipe out a wolf in high heaven if they came too close. It was near a road, an unused one, where dead roadkill animals and trash were put. Now if you thought a dump messed with your nose, go there.

But back to the point. Xzander raised his flawed muzzle and jowls parted to make way for the lugubrious tune. Enamels glinted in contrast with the snow. So, what would today be like?