Somewhere out in the vast white expanse of snow, Howl could hear the muted rustle of feathers moving against driving winds. He squinted against the stray snowflakes, blinking into the dark void in order to discern the source of this avian disturbance; for a few moments, all was still, and with a sense of apprehension, he wondered if the sound had been imagined. The swirling plumes of snow and the distant howling winds made for a surreal experience, one which made the grey doubt the validity of his own impressions. He shook his antlered head, in part to shake away the accumulated snow from his fur, but also to ensure that he was still firmly rooted in reality. As he glanced out from beyond the confines of his tree, Howl could discern the looming outline of some winged creature drawing ever closer to him. A gasp caught in the back of his throat, his golden eyes wide with something akin to alarm. A maelstrom of grim thoughts rushed through his head—was this winged creature going to pick him off in this vulnerable state? Or perhaps it was an angel of death, here to claim his half-frozen soul. Instinctively, the grey lowered his head, pointing the very sharp tip of his horn towards the encroaching shadow, his silver body tensed in anticipation of a defensive retaliation. However, as the figure drew even closer, Howl realized it was much smaller than he had previously thought—in fact, it was actually a half-grown pegasus, about as gelid and unhappy as himself. Upon making this realization, Howl exhaled softly, the breath unfurling into the arctic air on wings of swirling steam. In a swift gesture, Howl tipped his head away from its defensive position so that the girl would not feel threatened, quite glad for another warm body to share this frozen night with. The stag watched her approach, noting the play of rich creams and browns beneath the crust of accumulated snow on her slim body; it reminded him a little of the last crumpled leaves before the first snow, a thought which made him quite happy despite the frigid darkness surrounding him.

The winged girl spoke, her voice nearly carried away by the wind. Howl's furry ears tilted forwards, straining to catch the words which seemed to swirl and dance with each fat snowflake. "Better to weather the storm with company," he rumbled in response, a polite smile tugging on the velvet corners of his lips. However, they pulled taut in  a thoughtful frown when he heard her following utterances; his ears tilted backwards, betraying his uncertainty about the meaning of the rather frustratedly-spoken foreign words. The sandy maiden drew up beside him, offering him a frigid smile which melted any trace of consternation on his grey face. Just as she was thinking about burrowing into his beard, Howl eyed her wings with envy, secretly wishing he had a pair of his own to wrap around his snow-encrusted body. I wish I could have stayed home, she remarked, perhaps more to herself than to Howl; nevertheless, the statement piqued his interest. "Where might that be?" he queried, his whiplike tail giving a single curious lash. The grey succumbed to his inner fancies, imagining a variety of exotic biomes which might house a creature as strange and exquisite as his sand-colored companion. Pegasi were still a source of great interest to the half-blood, and this girl was no exception. Where would a pegasus live? On the peak of a mountain? Or perhaps somewhere warmer—the sandy shoal of a tropical beach? Suddenly quite self-aware about how rude he was being, the stallion gave her a respectful bow, careful not to accidentally knock the dun mare with any of his horns. He quickly added: "My name is Howl, and I hail from no-where in particular."

Howl watched her watching him, noting the mismatched colors of her eyes with interest. Never had he seen anyone with such a trait—where he came from (home, he thought longingly), eyes came most commonly in earthen shades such as dark greens, golds and rich browns, and occasionally blue; never did colors mix, nor did individual eyes have colors differing from their partner. Perhaps mismatching eyes were common from where this sandy girl hailed—but if Howl had learned anything in these last few months, it was that he should never take any assumption for granted.