Mauja the FrostHeart
ice cold man watches earth die, eternal winter takes its reign

He hadn't seen Korra since the attack on the Edge. She'd done the heroic, albeit foolish, thing, and had charged at the Sun God all by herself - and if Aurelius hadn't been there to knock her aside, Mauja would've blocked her path with a spike. Much as he, too, had wanted to drive the raging inferno from his home, what chance did they stand against a creature whose mane dripped fire? Whose wings set flames roaring out? Skin crackled and dried up just from being near him, so there was in way in hell that Mauja was going to attack - or let anyone else attack. To crash into that body... He shuddered. It probably meant a death sentence, and even though he hadn't minded touching Deimos (another walking death sentence), he wasn't interested in trying it.

Back to Korra.

Normally, he wasn't worried about her - and really, he wasn't worried about her physical health now either. She was a hardy thing, rugged and built for survival, and with a healthy dose of I don't give a damn which got her through most trials. He'd seen d'Artagnan and Kou patch her up, so really, she ought to be okay. Physically. The heat grated on all their nerves, but somehow he'd grown used to always having sweat running off him in rivulets, so if others fled north until the Edge was back to its normal temperature it wasn't strange. But Korra... She'd just taken off, without a word, and hadn't shown up even to tell him what was wrong. Not that Korra ever needed a psychiatrist, but the savage had, in the past, trusted him enough to be civil, albeit gruff, with him. Had even seemed to like him in her own way. But now? Gone, no word. The only logical place for the heat-hater to go seemed north, and so he was going north too, slogging through the slush. Heavy as he was he sunk into it, and each step was a labor. The Steppe had always been cool, and it was so still, but it was somewhat of a nightmare too. He nearly wanted to stop and scream and refuse to take a single step further until it froze again, but there was no point in such childish behaviors, and so he kept going, raven-feathered tail whipping at his hocks.

The sun was setting, setting the sky on fire; he smiled, grimly, shivered as the breezes cooled his sweaty skin. It felt good. It would take a couple of hours yet until darkness fell, but he could wait, could trek all night, searching for his lost savage. Now that he had some sort of trail, he wasn't worried. He'd find her, eventually, and either she'd be as grumpy with him as she always was, or actually tell him what was on her mind... If she even was troubled. The downside of caring for your herd members was that sometimes you invented problems that didn't exist. It could just be that she wanted to escape the heat.

He became worried the moment he came across a giant wolf track heading for the same direction.

Breathing raggedly, the King broke into a high-kneed trot, trying to avoid dragging his leg through the slush. It was a hard toil, but it paid off, for he spied a familiar brown, shaggy shape up ahead, and a less familiar, distinctively canine, shape as well. "Korra!" he called out, sharp eyes angling to the wolf-thing. It was large. But it was sitting in a pose that didn't quite yell about to pounce!, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't going to risk being attacked. Wary, he sidled up next to the short savage, keeping a distance between him and the predator. His gaze was alert, questioning, bordering on accusing, as he stared at the thing.