Nova Peak Capulet

The cold mountain yawned as dawnlight crept over its face. The sun bathed every rock and tree— it watched as the diurnal eagerly took the place of the nocturnal— and the cycle of the light's life continued on ceaselessly. It did so without appreciation or even thought. Especially from a impassive creature like Warbone, a lone wolf who spared no concern or consideration for the general passage of time or the conveniences (or lack thereof) that attended a particular time of day. He was a beast that saw no difference from morning to midnight, and the variation of his actions never had anything to do with time of day. Weather, perhaps, but even this had a rarely seen affect on his mood.

He had found nothing of particular interest until a streak of movement caught the range of his vision, and he watched from a high distance as a wolf picked its way slowly, determinedly, towards the base of the peak. Warbone descended, preparing to intercept her, but whatever other intentions he might've had were lost in his unclear body language. He carried his tail tall, the rest of him tight and aligned as he made a beeline for the young female. A mere investigation by a crownless king.