Gyrfalcon's Keep moored

When he slid to an uncomfortable halt on the lower-grade slopes at the base of the incline, the male simply laid there a moment, gingerly testing each limb. Then, he spat the feather from his mouth with a huff of breathless laughter and - just as the stranger came into view - began picking himself up off the geound, shaking the gravel from his pelt as he did.

"I'm okay," he chuckled, a bit embarrassed to be caught in such a position, but knowing it was too late to do anything but take it in stride. "Just slipped a little. Gotta learn to watch here I step." He plucked the feather back up off the ground and allowed the cream-colored shewolf to guide him back down to flat ground. There, the feather was dropped once more so he could address his Knight in Shining Armor. "Thanks for rescuing me," he said, his voice halfway between greatful and teasing.

A dull pain was throbbing on his chest, paws, and chin. Gradually, he became aware of the smell of blood, and realized that he was not quite as unscathed as he'd first thought. There were a few shallow scratches over his body, and one painful gash on his chin where he'd hit it against a rock. Maybe this trip hadn't been the best idea; he was a bit out of practice, where mountains were concerned. 

He glanced up at the mountain that always seemed to be on his mind these days and saw, as always, Adeline looking proud and fierce. "She's laughing at me," said Grayday, indicating the dusky silhouette of Silvertip.