Papa had urged Zacharie not to wander, not to go anywhere without Dulcie or Saga, to be careful to watch out for the Big Bad Wolf.

Zacharie reasoned that he hadn't wandered far, that Dulcie or Saga were free to track him down if they were worried, and had ample faith in himself to notice anything big and/or bad before it noticed him.

So technically, he wasn't breaking any promises today.

He liked the snow. Despite the cold and lingering dark, fresh powder's novelty hadn't worn off. So did the open wood. As he and his siblings got bigger, the den grew cramped. Here, he had plenty space and nobody telling him what to do, or scolding him for being too rambunctious.

And sometimes, he found new playmates. At the sound of wild-spirited laughter over the snow, Zeek galloped up the crest of a hill and jumped heroically (scrambled) onto an icy rock. Curly tail wagged above him as he smirked down toward the other pup. Salut ! Je m'appelle Zacharie. Qui es-tu ? (Hey! I'm Zacharie. Who are you?)

For good measure, he prompted with a self-satisfied growl, Que faites-vous dans ma neige ? (What are you doing in my snow?)