The willows were a dance of movement, frozen still in time. Their flowy skirts are trapped in a capsule of frost, making each branch look like a flow of long hairs down a woman’s fragile neck. For the many things that winter had ruined in the flora and fauna that made the woodlands thrive, this was by far the most hauntingly beautiful thing he’d seen. Sadly, it did not do much to quell his disdain for the colder seasons.
Mateo’s muzzle pointed to the sky, noise twitching as the cold air made his nostrils sting. The doctor was coming closer towards the coast – he could smell it. Feel it, too. The weather was much more forgiving in this area, and if he tread further enough, perhaps he could make it just before his weakened stride buckled underneath his weight. Hungry, frostbitten, desperate for the familiar warmth and terrain of the ocean. He’d be lucky if this weather did not kill him within the next few weeks….
Shaking off his coat, the sunkissed male ventured further into the willows with purpose in his steps. Not yet noticing a presence that lurked near him….
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