He could feel the cold bite of the approaching winter in the air. Ibycus made his way along the trails as he was heading in a southerly direction. On occasion, the leaves from the trees overhead would shower down around him as a breeze would wander by and shake them loose from the limbs.
The cold did not bother him as his thick coat of fur would protect him from it as it had done in the cold winters in the mountains of Italy where he was raised. It was the short days and long nights that sent him into mild depression every winter. It did not affect him that bad, but he always looked forward to spring and the long days of summer.
The faint trail that was crisscrossed with deer tracks gave way to a well used and packed trail. With a slight frown that crept across his muzzle, Ibycus pondered where he was and where he was going. He may have been new to the area, but the one thing that remained fairly constant was territorial markings. The well used trail was a clue that he may be getting close to a pack boarder and he kept an eye out for the telltales so as not to enter into a territory uninvited.
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