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The winter of early February, 2021.

A few weeks had passed, and Finbar's leg was getting better. It was still tender, and painful if he put any kind of pressure on it, but its recovery was coming along well.

Willow had cared for and brought him food every single day, without fail. She was an amazing huntress, always catching the best prey for herself, her pack and for Finbar. She had also overseen his leg, using her knowledge of natural medicine and basic healing to aid him.

Keeping him a secret from her father, who was the pack leader, Willow remained diligent about helping the white wolf-dog. The cave he made his temporary home was nearby the river he'd nearly lost his life in on that fateful night, and on the edge of the territory of Willow's pack.

To deliver water to Finbar in the beginning, before it was safe for him to carefully walk to the river, the light brown half-breed girl would soak a bunch of moss and let him suck it out. It did the job well enough, but Finbar was grateful when he regained his ability to move about.

Nowadays, he went outside sometimes to sun himself with Willow, though never without her; she had an ability that was very mysterious to his inexperienced mind. The soft-furred female could smell anything around them, from simple animals like deer and foxes all the way to humans; she could even differentiate between each and every member of her pack.

Finbar simply wasn't able to do that, yet—Willow had assured him that his ‘wolf senses’ would awaken soon enough.

The winter of early March, 2021.

One month later on a particularly sunny day with the snow, still not yet melted from the last storm, the two wolf-dogs went out together to the hillside a few miles away; Finbar's leg had healed to the satisfying point where it no longer hurt to use it, and Willow wanted to show him around her home.

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They strode side by side through the crunchy snow and mushy leaf litter strewn all over the ground from earlier in the fall. They made their way through the bare branches of trees and bushes, up and down slopes and over frozen waterways.

The untamed countryside, with majestic Appalachian mountains as a scenic backdrop, was a truly delightful place. In his time in the wild since what had happened to him, Finbar had grown to love it, and it was still in the middle of the bitterness of winter. He'd surely love it more in the comfortable warm months, or moons as Willow called ‘months’.

“Are you doing alright?” Willow slowed down in front of him to glance back, making sure her friend was still able to keep up.

Finbar nodded. “Ah. Yeah. I'm fine. I'm better than ever.”

“Good,” she responded with a quiet sweetness, turning again to lead them forward.

Something had been different about her lately, and Finbar couldn't put his paw on it. She smelled off, but not in a bad way; in fact, it made him feel all fuzzy inside like he never had before.

Strange urges to be more physical with the pack leader's daughter drove him, and so he listened; he had taken every opportunity he could to nuzzle her, to lick her ears, and to lean against her. The best part was that his friend was receptive to his advances, which were actions that he did not understand on a mental level but deep within him he knew exactly what he was doing and why.

The white wolf-dog missed home less and less as he grew closer to his friend. The pats on the head, the toys, the dry tasteless food, the leashes, the crate, the dog parks, and humans in general, all became a distant memory that faded more with each passing day, becoming less relevant with every drop of water off the icicles that hung down from the tree heights above the two canines.

Whatever defined Finbar's home was thoroughly blurred.

The sound of Willow's paws on the snow ceased as she came to halt on top of a hill, causing Finbar to stop trudging beside her. Around them were bushes with some red berries, most having been picked off by the local birds. “We're here,” she smiled, looking out at the vast white landscape.

Finbar looked too; it was breathtakingly beautiful. It was covered in virgin snow, dotted with dormant, leafless trees and evergreens. It was mostly completely open, tantalizingly desirable for anyone who loved running.

He recalled the first urge he'd encountered—his push to survive, which he had, and to run. Today was his chance to fulfill the second half.

Looking back to his friend, the white wolf-dog decided something as his heart fluttered; he made up his mind that nothing would ever be as beautiful as the way Willow looked, standing there strong, framed by the divine snow-lands.

A cool wind blew by, whistling a peaceful song, and the thick fur strands of Willow's body rustled and waved with it. She drew in a breath of fresh air, taking in the sights. “It's great, yeah?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

Finbar meant his agreement, the outside world was stunning, but he felt like a man of little words currently due to… distractions. Rather, one distraction; Willow herself. Everything else felt secondary, or complimentary, compared to her.

‘What is this feeling?’ He wondered, feeling amazing inside.