Northstar Vale they'll never get old and gray

As the sun rose over the ridge, the male could see a lush oasis that lay at the center of the mountain's range. Other wolves might have been suspicious of such a place—it was the perfect trap, a section of land that seemed like paradise but opened one up to attack from above on all sides. But not Curran. It was immediately inspiring to the male, and he decided in that moment that it was worth exploring. Surely, nothing could go wrong in such a beautiful stretch of land. It would be exactly the type of lift his spirit currently needed. So, tail held high with excitement, the earthy male made his way down the ridge towards the vale.

When he first arrived, it was everything he had hoped for—lush with small creeks and ponds, painted with small swathes of vibrant forest. Curran couldn't help but grin as he made his way through the territory, pausing to bury his nose in wildflowers as he went. It was when he spent a long moment with his nose in a thick growth of Indian Paintbrush that he changed his mind—in an instant—about the Vale. Before he could take note of the scent, something heavy fell upon him... clawing and biting, punctuating the morning air with grunts and snarls.

Curran crouched down low, before springing back up with powerful kicks of his legs—the goal to throw whatever it was off of him. The action worked, and with a warning growl, the Phase spun around as he leapt away... only to be faced by the desperate visage of a half-starved, juvenile mountain lion.