Lion Head Mesa postscript: it was a terrible animal always feeding itself

he was at the bottom of the mesa when a fierce wind blew in, bringing with it a dense fog that he dared not challenge. he picked his way along the slope absentmindedly, suddenly coming across fresh-laid scents of a blackfeather wolf he knew. interest piqued, he followed its twisting path from the frost-seized honeysuckle to the snow-capped and jutting gneiss -- all up until she came into his field of view. 

she must have turned back, for she now was heading down the promontory. iliksis stopped and regarded her coolly, waiting for her to make her move. he was in the mood for a game, and the prospect of a challenge elicited excitement in his thin frame.