Sawtooth Spire i'm heading straight for the castle

the howl rises through the air; cutting across the pitter patter of rain as it beats upon stone and earth. upon the emerald leaves that fan out in a half-assed umbrella of the tree he rests under. wintersbane pushes himself to his paws, stretches once and trudges out into the full of the rain, feeling it soak into the fur of his nape and spine as he makes his way to the borders. it has been a long time since someone has called; or so it feels like a long time. his tail rises as he approaches the scene, stance proclaiming him as one of the spire's leaders. this is sagtannet. what brings you to our borders?