The sun bore down on the great bear’s thick chocolate pelt, soaking into his body and sitting on his flesh like the fires of hell. His salmon-pink tongue lolled carelessly from his gaping jaws and his sharp silver gaze darted along the stretch of land before him, seeking a way to provide himself shade from the blistering warmth. Lærke was not accustomed to such a steady stream of heat on his large body. It bogged him down and made him feel heavy. His wide paws felt as though the ground beneath them was foreign and strange, but he did not resent the land for its differences; he was there to celebrate them.
 
Padding forward a few paces, the bear found himself among tall grasses that tickled the underside of his round belly and brushed against his limbs with a whimsical caress. Lærke knew that he would never have beheld such sights on the tundra of his home. The moonlit wolves had spoken of lands such as that one, though, and had such great tales of them. Roaming his ghostly gaze to the small dots of conifers that seemed to speck the plateau, the soturi smiled faintly at them.
 
Overhead, there was a whistling of a breeze that carried the cries of sea birds that were entirely alien to the hulking wolf. Drawing his muzzle upward to peer at the blue expanse of sky, he caught sight of a passing gull that swooped over his crown and dove toward the cliffs on the far side of the plateau. Lærke flagged his tail welcomingly to the bird before he lowered his head and continued on his trek.