FENRIR

The white brute lay against the dying grasses that grew seldomly by the small stream on the northern edge of the eskers. Fenrir lifted his muzzle as the wind brought in foreign scents of equines, canines, deer and migrating birds. Fenrir shivered, the breeze sinking into his thick coat and brushing against his flesh. How long had it been since Fenrir had 'been' here? Perhaps, two months? Fenrir was scared, still seeking to figure out who he truly was.

Lir

Lir had been wandering for about four days ow. He was exhausted, because he knew that there is no time to rest. His panting was getting out of control.
Must continue...cant stop now!
As soon as he knew it he was on the dead grassy floor of the landscape. Then he suddenly noticed he had stumbled upon a white furry mass on the grass, but his vision was too blurry from exhaustion to see clearly.