Peter gives a yip of agreement. Knowing that sure would have been useful on the moon, at least for Peter. But that's water under the bridge, the wolf unable to muster much upset about it, and Peter shakes off again. It's cold enough that the snow that settles on his fur doesn't melt--that's the point of his coat, after all, to keep his warmth in and the cold and wet out--so he's not actually as damp as one might expect.

He pads up to Isaac, sticks his muzzle in Isaac's hand and whuffs out a breath that clouds in the air.