Sheepeater Cliff if ours was a dream

Sleeping and nestled into a slender crook in the cliffs, Vigilante found himself disturbed by the unambiguous sound of claws against stone. The docile noises of someone traveling carefully on the ridge ticked and scraped on above him; the echoing walls of his crevice making the nuisance just that much louder. The limber wraith unfurled his stiffened limbs, his dark coat shedding dust and pebbles as he rose to his stilted height. The large wolf squeezed from his confine and turned his head up, spotting the culprit a crag or two above him.

Pressing his ears forward, the menace stared after the elfin wolf, his gaze hard and rather unkind. He thought he was looking at a she-wolf, and having never in his life been seriously impressed by the fairer sex, Vigilante automatically assumed that this was just some dumb, overly careful woman without a rock-climbing bone in her body. He chose not to draw attention to himself then, unwilling to deal with what he thought was a good-looking, but ultimately irritating, baby-maker.