He scoured the base of the mountain once more, combing over every inch of the gentle slope, peering into the shadowy hollows and winding paths. Yet she was nowhere to be found. Each eye-catching landmark offered no clues, each scent trail he followed led to dead ends or was swept away entirely, as if the little lynx had been swallowed whole by the mountain.

The climb to the summit was treacherous, the path winding and steep, littered with loose stones and sudden drops. Moss's paws were nimble and sure, his experience from countless journeys across rugged terrain guiding him. Yet, even for a seasoned traveler like them, the ascent was no easy feat. Their muscles strained against the incline, each step a risk as they maneuvered around jagged rocks and precarious ledges. A howl poured from deep within their chest, a plaintive, mournful sound that echoed across the mountainside, mingling with the wind as it swept through the craggy peaks, their voice carrying all of their worries through the cold, thin air.

Nutu, where have you gone? he whispered, his voice laced with desperation. His mind raced with images of her growing form wandering too close to the edge of a cliff. The mere thought tightened his stomach into knots.

The little wolf paused for a moment on a narrow ledge, their breath coming in heavy pants, the cold air stinging their lungs. His eyes scanned the rugged landscape below, searching for any sign of movement, any hint of her presence. But all he saw were shadows stretching long in the fading light, and the rustling of leaves carried on the wind. He had to keep moving, he had to find her.

Moss pushed onward, determination setting his jaw. His claws dug into the rocky ground, pulling himself upward with a sense of urgency that refused to relent. He could feel the sting of the cold against his nose, the chill of the mountain air biting through his thin fur. Yet, he pressed on, driven by the need to find her, to bring her back to safety. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum, urging him forward.

As they climbed higher, their mind was a whirl of thoughts and memories. He remembered when they had met, how she had been lost and afraid. He had promised himself to protect her, to keep her safe and help her find her family, and now, with each step he took, he felt the weight of that promise more heavily than ever.

Reaching a small plateau, Moss paused again, their breath misting in the chilly air. He lifted his head and let out another howl, his call raw with emotion. The sound echoed off the rocky cliffs, carrying his plea far and wide. They listened intently, torn ears straining for any response, any sign that she might still be out there, listening, waiting. But the only answer was the eerie silence of the mountains, broken only by the distant cry of a hawk and the mocking laugh of the wind.

It was growing dark, the sun slipping further and further below the horizon. Moss lowered his aching body to the stone dejectedly, resting his head atop his paws. He would not be able to see well enough to climb as night fell, he might as well rest here and begin searching again in the morning.