Iggy's feet shuffled along the hard ground, leaving dirty marks threw the collecting snow. He had begun to get cold, so he used his free arm to rub his bare shoulders freely. His other arm was just barely brushing Fang's; making a new fixed and influenced power pulsate through Iggy.

Fang had gotten quiet again. He didn't find that unusual, but it still disappointed him greatly. He thought he could at least speak with him, just the slightest bit. Though the sound of his regular breathing, throbbing pulse, and lively walk comforted him to no end... it just wasn't enough. He felt so... secluded with him, so isolated. Like they were both the only two roses in a fix of foul rain.

With a thought, he felt that the cold wasn't there. He dropped his arm, letting his body to its own warmth. With a reflection, he felt the wind wasn't driving his hair in a crown around his face. He stopped struggling feebly with the strands in his mouth and eyes. With a contemplation, he stopped worrying about the world roughly revolving around him. Nothing could possibly drive him mad in this firm world of his.

Finally, Fang spoke. "Are you cold?" He asked, just as Iggy felt his leg muscles constrict. He stopped along side him.

"No."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying, idiot."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes. You. Are."

Iggy didn't even bother to snap back. He steamed off, knowing Fang would just follow. And it wasn't long before he felt his arm brush Fang's. Iggy felt the static turn on again, like a switch. His skin bubbled like a fuse. His veins channeled like wires.

Fang sighed. "You never change." He said softly, his warm breath releasing through out the air in little puffs, just like the men smoking in New York City. Except this was much, much, more healthy. More endearing. Despite this, Iggy didn't say anything in return. His shoulders rose, then fell, just slightly—just slightly enough—so only Fang can see it. Perhaps feel it.

"When you're in a good mood, everything is a joke," Fang's eyes fell upon Iggy, for a simple, quivering moment, then went on, "but when you're angry or upset, the smallest thing infuriates you."

With that, Iggy felt Fang's arm shift out of his reach. His heart stopped. His veins froze. He even stopped dead, trying to seek back his self control. Though it wasn't long before he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, making him jump, he couldn't help but be fearful for a moment. But before Iggy could yell in retort, or yelp in surprise, Fang spoke.

"I'm here," he said gently, his words drifting off his lips like fluid. It made Iggy's skin produce goose bumps. He quaked noiselessly, not saying a word. Until he heard something, making him freeze mid-motion. "Ig?" Fang asked. "What is it?"

Iggy knew Fang wouldn't hear it. They might both have the same avian enhanced hearing, but Iggy's ears were more trained. He couldn't see, so his ears were used more often. With more expertise.

What he had heard was a soft vibration, a yielding tremor just under his feet. It traveled through the trees, just like a limp fluid. Like a haunting. Something chilling. Something fearful, yet engaging.

Iggy's lips parted, moving in a sweet unison. His thoughts were starting to pull together, starting to sow together through thread and a silky fabric. He grasped Fang's arm, just before he could tell him through words.

It sounded like, felt like an... "Avalanche."