Krybeest

It walks the deep-winter shelves like a piece of the glacier gone ambulatory, its ice-armor thickening in the cold until it can shrug off a rockfall, and it clears its own paths through the drifts with a lowered, ridged brow. It grazes the wind-scoured lichen of the highest ledges where little else can reach, and its slow metabolism lets it go weeks between meals in the dead of winter. In a blizzard it turns its armored front to the wind and simply stands, letting the storm build a fresh layer of ice over the old, and emerges from the white-out larger, colder, and entirely unbothered.