Idle hands act as suitable plaything for the devil.

But what of idle thoughts, those that rove across ground well tread, ponderance grown thin and worn without cause for further thought and yet touched upon once more. Possibly there too lingered the beast deemed unholy, adorned by halo melted into glimmering sheen of a shadow, awaiting only invitation. Forth does he extend it upon a whim, beckoned closer for the company of such may well be better than the boredom of solitude.

May well such uncouth companion — his alone the choice, yet ease allowed him to push the guilt upon non-existent party — that drove him over threshold. Silent the sprawl that opened before in a scape heavy with gathered flakes, broken by the crackle, beneath unsure steps the pristine snow tarnished. Upward lifted paw and regarded the strands to which clung a few stray flakes, the chill unexpected and unwelcome. Annoyance painted a harsh frown along pale lips, breath encapsulating a murmur stolen by frigid breeze.

Continued steps unguided by planned trajectory, stiff those long limbs, low hung the feathered plume of his tail. First taste of that beyond poor, displeasure grown evident in manner lips shift, grimace settling as brow lowers, shadowed dark vision that skirts along the ivory field stretching before. A wasteland fraught with peril unperceived, or that may well simply be a childish wish, a desire to see the world beyond their subterranean residence proven worthy addition boasting of new exploits.