calling for you

Sorry for delay!

The wind was louder than anything else, but in time the scent of another's presence could be captured by the very same wind that howled loudly in her ears. And at his presence, the world seemed to quieten. Tonravik could not yet see the approaching wolf, but the beast of a woman rose to all fours to meet him, her eyes scouring the land below once more. Her interest lay more in the wolves than it did the land; the beauty of it was utterly lost, but the tactician in her saw advantage in height. She was a mountaineer. It was not for the sunrise and sunset that she kept so close to the sky, but for the power. Her throne was immovable rock, her cape the fierce, cutting wind. This place was not hers, but she was made for it, and how clear it was in each movement that she made!

In time she was hovering above the portion that he climbed, observing with a critical eye. The winds seemed to whip again as though to test him, and there was no expression upon her face. There was a hungry twinkle in her eye whilst she watched, and the Queen of Stone and Rock, mountains, could not guess at whether she desired his success or his failure. Her mind hummed. Only the strong survive. So many weak of body but strong of mind had fallen during the climb. Their bloodline would go with them. It was a strange thing, that knowledge; but the daughter of Tartok felt the truth of it even then.