Dragoncrest Cliffs To hang your hopes on

The sound of snow underfoot brought him back to his senses, a single ear twitching. Perhaps it was the raccoon returning, curiosity getting the better of it. Keeping still, he half expected the little animal to come strutting right up to him until he heard a chuff. Looking up from the ground, his eyes landed on a rather odd wolf, her colouration unlike anything he’d seen up until that point. Pigmentation aside, he was quick to notice how her fur stood on end and she seemed tense. Lifting his muzzle, he sniffed in her direction and found traces of the commander’s scent intermingling with hers. Safe. She wasn’t a threat to him or the pack. Yet, the manner in which she held herself still seemed to suggest otherwise, however unthreatening he actually perceived her to be. Perhaps the raccoon had tried to throw something at her, too.

Picking himself up, he glanced back in the direction that the raccoon had disappeared in, then returned his gaze to her. With a soft wuff and a nod in the assailant’s direction, he tried to assure her that it was gone. With the thought of her having been hunting it not crossing his mind, he assumed that she would be glad to know it was long gone.