Sawtooth Spire autumnary

He was patrolling as was required of his station. Lumbering paws carried him across the jagged edges of his spire home. The teeth of stone stood out like ravenous things, hungry for a meal of flesh should one falter in their step. These granite fangs would surely consume them. But not him. Not the wolf of flame who was so familiar to these parts that each pike was something akin to a fang of his own. He wove through them as though he were a part of them. Immune.

The wind shifted. A scent that was not of wild game or predator wafted through the air. Wolf. And not a single howl. His lips curled. Fangs slipping from beneath leathered lips as his shoulders rolled forward. He covered the earth with ground eating strides, a growl upon his lips as mind screamed a single note of discord. Intruder. There was only one way to approach an intruder. With the promise of death. Whoever this wolf was, he'd gladly give it to them.

The earthen wolf appeared in the distance. His already quick pace hastened into a near sprint as a snarl ripped from his jaws. That was warning enough, but he followed it with a howl of warning as though to alert the rest of his pack that an intruder had dared tempt their lands. Head drawn for battle. Tail rigid above his back, he approached her at a sprint with snatching, snapping fangs. How dare a wolf draw so near. He'd kill her.