The glacier rose like a glorious crystalline beacon in the rising of the sun, giving the illusion that it was translucent and glowing as the golden tresses of the sun touched out to it as it pierced the dawn sky. Myrkið drew in a soft breath as he gazed upon it. The lower territories were still hot, but the transition of autumn was happening and soon it would be upon them. The changing of the seasons could be gradual or they could be all at once and in a blink it was the next season. The next line in the cycle of life and death. There were a few months until the snows and ice of winter and death of plant-life around them began and thought there was an instinctual press to integrate himself into a pack it was not a process that he was willing to rush for the sake of fulfillment. There were months to go yet and it was not dire. He inhaled a deep breath, the cool air that filled his lungs leaving stinging kisses against his internal temperature of his body before he let it out in a soft exhale. There was something undefined in the beauty the Glacier had to offer.

Itreker had paused to take a stolen moment to enjoy the scenery that was laid before him but he did not idle long. Instead, he turned his back to the towering glacier and headed towards the southern areas of the territory, intent to explore.