Snow

The wolf, with his white fur camouflaged along with the falling snow, stealthy roams his domain.  Everything is perfectly still; the leaves ceased to exist long ago and the animals who didn’t migrate are burrowed in the ground.  This day is unique; the rock in front of the wolf is insn't a rock as initally thought, but instead the rear of a polar bear.  The wolf thinks, with a touch of a incredulous smirk, “That dense fool, he doesn’t know that the lake is out east?”  Slyly, he stands motionless for a minute, as the rustling of wind has nothing to stop its breathing, and then walks away to the north.