Altar of Twilight Oh,I need this

@Floki!  :)


It was not really very late, but it was dark. Mason could hardly remember the late balmy eveings of summer, he had been so young. It felt like all he had ever known was Autumn, changing into a Winter that encompassed everything with harsh winds and snow. He had found a sheltered spot in his quest for knowledge of the Wilds, and he was currently snuffling his way along the valley sandwiched by two mountains. He was lingering right in the centre, so as to not get too close to the pack of Moonspear. He could see its slopes thanks to an ethereal light, but it was hard to discern anything besides a mass of rock with trees jutting out.

The light appeared to be coming from the early-rising bloated moon of winter. The moon had a pink tinge to it tonight, and this caused the glow it bounced off the altar of twilght to be even more unreal than usual. Mason looked positively ghastly – his grey-white fur caught the light until he turned a mangy pink, mottled with brown and black in places. He looked like the mutilated survivor of a raging forest fire, from a distance

Unknowing of his post-apocalyptic appearance, Mason sniffed his way down a scent trail, looking for a vole. He expected it was asleep by now, as the trail was old. He kept his eyes on the surroundings and suddenly looked up, unnerved. The moon’s light bobbed and bounced, and Mason turned a slow pirouette to see whether his eyes agreed with his other senses. He had seen half of the territory so far, but unwilling to delve too close to Moonspear, he did not want to go much further. Mason peered into the darkness, breathing deeply in an attempt to bring forewarning of whatever it was he had heard. He hoped this odd feeling wasn’t going to end in another cougar attack…