Wolf RPG

The blank white of the sky stretched seemlesslessly, flawlessly, for as far as she could see in every direction. It would be a lie to claim that she did not miss the summer months and yearned for the soft beauty of the spring which surely grow near with every lazy sunset. But Sao could still find beauty in the snow-covered blankness that became the mountain range, interupted once and again by spindly trunk of jutting rock. It was in the sparkling of the lightly falling ice that lit when the sun struck it just so, the gentle sound of the evergreens beneath the weight of snow and teasing of breeze. Luck had filled her stomach yesterday and such she devoted the soft light of today to padding aimlessly.

Already she could see signs of spring; though maybe that was simply a longing mind attributing more to the simple changes of the land around her. For a few moments she was accompanied by a small tribe of chickadees, the birds calling sharply from spindly branches all around. But then wind raked sharply through the copse and made the falling ice into tiny fangs that scittered dully againt the icy crust of the snow, and silence fell again. 

The land dropped abruptly; not surprising yet requiring adjustments to her stride as she moved forward. A paw skidded, but she recovered herself quickly. And then all of her was moving, slowly at first, barely, but then suddenly a little faster. Sao stiffened her forelimbs, bracing her shoulders, but the composition of the snow was suddenly vastly different and the drop-off a great deal steeper than it appeared initially. Panic coloured her expression liberally then, tail curled high and twitching as she struggled now just to stay upright as she began an impromptu tobogganning session.

He followed the scent of the foreigner — the intruder — with the intensity of a particularly well-trained bloodhound, path never deviating from their trail. Stigmata's dictum, that the entirety of the Sunspire Mountains now belonged to Diaspora, had ignited a possessive, territorial streak within the boy, and inspired him to seek out all who dared pass through their territory unannounced.

Of course, it was foolish to think a single pack could wield iron-fisted control over a whole mountain range...but Redshank was a fool. And Stigmata was a persuasive leader.

As the scent grew stronger, his pace hastened, until he finally caught a glimpse of honeyed fur in amongst the snow. He squinted, only just making out a tall, leggy female who didn't seem to pose a threat, but Redshank didn't want to take any chances. He started forward with the intent of catching her off guard, but the unforgiving snow had different ideas. Taken from the path, she slid downwards, slowly at first but quickly gaining momentum.

Redshank sprinted the last few strides to where she had initially misstepped before drawing to a stop with and watching the girl with mild amusement, a cruel smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Maybe the mountains themselves would do a fine enough job of keeping trespassers at bay.