Silvertip Mountain just need something to justify your soul

(Yoooooo!)

Siku's blessing, and a promise to return, brought him to the foothills where Tonravik and his fellow Tartok roamed. His sooty ears twisted atop his dark cranium as he came to rest just beneath the shadow of the mountain. It carved a jagged silhouette out of the midsummer skies, and he observed the graceless cut of the peak with a keen, appraising eye. A wolf needed to be made of tough stuff to live on such unwelcoming territory.

He missed her, though he would never admit it to anyone but himself in the quiet hours of dawn. Regardless of his own feelings, he considered her his closest friend, and to be without presented an emptiness he wasn't wholly familiar with. But he'd made his choice and fully intended to hold himself accountable for the consequences.

The dark wolf padded over to a lush bit of grass in the shade beneath a copse of pines, and reclined against the nearest trunk. Skull stretched his forelegs out and splayed his sore toes. He would seek Tonravik out after a quick bit of rest. It would give him time to collect his thoughts.