Mount Apikuni it's burning you alive

Haunter was no grudge-holder. He had long since learned that no day was promised to any wolf and so he lived on the basis that if he were to suddenly perish—by fight, accident, or otherwise—he would have wanted to perish without residual hatred bore deep in his soul. Not that he believed in any sort of afterlife, he simply thought it useless to harbor emotions when everything, every part of his existence could abruptly be gone in an instant. Even now, he could hardly remember the wolf who had taken his ear or the one who had scarred his leg, and if he were to meet them today, he would be indifferent to their presence unless they challenged him again.

He was as glad as he could be about her seeming disregard for earlier indiscretions, though he had apparently struck a small chord with his impolite words. Haunter remembered now why he often stayed quiet; and it was because his usually vicious disposition would often show itself in words he almost always regretted. But true to his nature he soon forgot his own mistake, and regarded the back of the large female with careful neutrality as she rebuffed him (albeit in a decidedly much kinder fashion) and then began to lead the way up.

Long legs took him easily after her, coming much closer to her on the narrow path than he otherwise would've liked, but he no longer felt much discomfort in her proximity. He would never go as far to say that he trusted her, but he was confident enough in his own abilities to know that he would survive her should she prove his suspicions right. "My name is Haunter," he rasped after a small bout of silence, dutifully following her and imitating all her careful movements as if he were her black shadow.