POV - Thomassen
Thom woke up the morning after the storm. He, like other creatures in the forest, had taken shelter for the terrible blizzard to pass by before continuing with their daily routines. The snow had somehow gotten into his den under the hollow of a tree and covered his thick pelt. He wasn’t bothered by the snow. He couldn’t even feel the cold (or the heat for that matter). But it still disturbed him that his warm, moss-covered den still had been penetrated by the irritable white particles. He stumbled out of the hollow and quickly shook off all the snow that had gathered on him. Thom set to work clearing out the wet moss.
After finishing the rather laborous task, Thom realized that he was starving. He had not properly eaten in days. Prey was already difficult to find, and the storm would have just driven them deeper into their nests. He sighed and shook himself again -- this time, to get rid of the enormous pressure on him.
Thomassen wandered down to the river, where he might hopefully catch some fish. No use; the river was completely frozen over. Thomassen contemplated igniting his paws on fire to melt the ice, then decided it was better to just let the ice stay. He could get prey somewhere else.
Thomassen saw a mother deer and her fawn walking up the hillside. He instantly dropped into a crouch, licking his jaws at the delightful sight of a meal. He realized that he would not be able to catch up to them, however, when the wind changed direction and blew his scent toward them. They bounded away at the smell of wolf, and Thom gave up the hunt. His stomach rumbled inside him, letting him know he had to find food soon.
A sudden wave of tiredness overcame the over-sized wolf. He padded over to a nearby tree, forgetting to check for scent markers, then curled up and dozed off.