calling for you

@Bjorn

She had made it to the top. Years of being a mountaineer (born and bred for them, some might say) made even the most difficult of peaks relatively simple enough to navigate; one needed to find the right path on the treacherous face they sought to conquer, its weakness. That was not to say the journey was easy. It required effort, and Tonravik had certainly exerted an ample enough of energy by the time she had made it. The sun was rising, and her breathing had long since steadied.

Here, she was at peace. Another mountain conquered... but not yet taken. Tonravik thought of Silvertip, its inadequacy, and longed for the mountain her brother now maintained for her in her absence. The only thing similar about mountains (each were different, unique) was the way the wind played upon you, and she licked her chops thoughtfully. As the sun rose, her eyes scoured the grounds below. She did not heed the way the light hit things, but instead the precise moment that the sun crawled in a particular direction. And then, locations. Could she see wolves here? Was there any advantage to be had from the climb...? Her ears swiveled backward, heeding her surroundings, not at all absent from where she presently stood.