Lion Head Mesa snapped like twigs

Cicero merely grinned when the other wolf said that he could not argue with Cicero's logic. While Cicero fancied himself more of a philosopher than one aimed to win arguments -- and so a sharp reaction gave him more fulfilment than winning any arguments -- it amused him that he had managed to silence this wolf, whose tongue had been a lot sharper earlier. Perhaps he simply wanted to get on with the climb. Cicero stared up towards the path, noticing the loose rocks that could cause their footing unsteady. For a wolf so young, he had a fairly good balance, but should he fall he had relatively little muscle or body to soften the fall.

"What is a wolf's name?" asked Cicero as he looked over his shoulder towards the black wolf. "Should Cicero die, he might like to know what handsome wolf brought him to these foolish actions." A rare playful smirk danced across Cicero's features. He enjoyed this encounter: it was quite a while since he had felt free to have fun, without pressing matters that clouded that fun. Even being with Damien was simply different than before, what with their plans of revenge.