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Davyn sighed in satisfaction. He had searched all of Phoenix Valley to find the perfect spot. After all, winter had her grasp on the lands, and a home would be wonderful. Leaves didn't provide the best of warmth, Davyn had come to find out.
The spot was simple, within scent distance of the lakes, underneath a towering oak. At the moment, the branches were bare of anything except the drops of clinging ice. He pawed carefully at the ground; it gave, surprising considering the icy hold that winter had had on the valley the last couple of nights. So he threw himself into his work, digging furiously in his lupus form, a vague idea of what he wanted his den to look like forming in his head.
The den would be deep, and would be wide. In time, there would be a system of rooms, but at the moment Davyn just wanted to get it started.
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