Ravenshook Cliffs winter ghost

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It seemed as though the dark-furred wolf could not find comfort in such a closed space. Kierkegaard did not bother to stop the beast before he departed without so much as another word. The privacy of the cavern was far more enjoyable than the presence of unsolicited strangers. Though, the ghostly brute had always considered this a truth. His solitary lifestyle had cast aside all thoughts of companionship. The only body who had travelled alongside him had shared his blood. But he thought of Signe for a moment and felt a strange sensation in the pit of his gut. He had taken the dark-furred pup and made her his own. She had grown, he knew, and perhaps the antisocial nature of her upbringing had caused her to leave. The Sairensu male was certain that he had given her the right tools to fend for herself.
 
A snarl and shriek pierced the silence of the hole in the mountain. Kierkegaard drew his lengthy ears forward and cast his golden gaze in the direction of the opening. He moved to block the entrance, but the steps he had taken were not made in haste and he found himself peering into the red eyes of another wolf. Peeling his dark lips over his canines, the ghost took a dominant stance immediately after sighting the unwanted company. He had already rid himself of one.
 
The wolf stammered on about wanting to escape the rain. Kierke snorted sharply and shook his head. “I’ve already rid myself of unwanted company,” he snarled in response, holding fast to the ground he had taken. His golden gaze did not leave the face of the other wolf. The fur along his neck and shoulders rose threateningly and he flattened his ears to his skull.