Coldfang
Legacy Name: Coldfang

Blindingly white land stretches out to the horizon. Gusts of wind grab the tips of snowmounds and toss them around.

A little mouse, as white as the snow, leaps and bounds through the snow as if frolicking. It holds its head high to keep its burden, one perfect acorn, secure in its mouth. It can barely see where it's going, but that doesn't matter too much. There are no trees or cliffs to run into here, only vast fields.

As it romps, one particular hillock of snow blinks. Then it shakes slightly. A figure bursts forth and grabs the little mouse.

Coldfang snarls.

The mouse nearly drops its acorn in shock. Then it holds it in both hands and squeaks a query at the velosotor.

Coldfang sighs. And he sets the rodent down. It would have only been a morsel at best. Perhaps this was not the best location for an ambush hunt. He hardly knew where to go now. The familiar hunting grounds were, of course, off limits. He was now a lone hunter. A solitary creature.

The mouse jumps up and down in his vision, then runs up his fearsomely clawed foot, along his leg, and leaps off, all in one quick blur, carrying its acorn again.

Coldfang growls. "Shoo, pest."

Where could he possibly find a hunting area as rich as his tribe's? It was hard not to wallow in pity. A single predator, all alone....

The pest keeps dancing about in front of him, and when it sees it has attracted his attention, it places the acorn on the ground and noses the gift toward the fierce reptile.

Coldfang smirks. "I don't need an acorn." He exhales slowly and looks out into the distance, to the endless wastes ahead of him where he must soon find his dinner. He stands and starts to move off, but an indignant chirping sound from the mouse makes him glance back.

The mouse cocks its head at him. He narrows his eyes and glares, reptilian pupils shrinking. But the mouse only stares back, unfazed by the bright sunlight reflecting off the snow around them.

Coldfang blinks. Then, as he realizes he's just lost a staring contest with a mouse, he starts to chuckle in spite of himself.

"Oh, fine. You can come with me."

The mouse spins about in a quick circle, then picks up its acorn and chases after its friend, daringly racing up the velosotor's leg to settle on his back as he speeds toward the horizon.

Coldfang doesn't understand. The mouse is much smarter than he is. It knows what manner of treasure it carries.

Within the acorn is a note.

The note reads: