Otter Creek build it into pinnacles and shrines

The mystic had not slept; his vision in the shores had been enough to keep him awake for weeks, but the cat’s heart thrummed as he had padded away from the shore and deep into the landscape that housed the numerous bodies. Their scent was wild in the air, and the Gul’Dan knew that the packs who claimed those territories would be many. The wolves had been never truly been close companions to the lynx of his home, but he had found aid in their company on a few occasions and was inclined to believe that the great spirits had led him to their world in hopes of finding the blessed ones. The voices still whispered to him, begging him to return to the sea, but Bajeera had found distance from the water and comfort in the rolling of the landscape as it faded to trees.
 
Still, some part of the fel beast desired a close proximity with the water. He followed the trailing creek with a quiet composure; tufted ears swiveled atop his crown as the voices breathed into his mind. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, the feline caught scent of another beast: a wolf. Fixing his wild gaze on the pale figure – her form was illuminated so strangely in the light – he could not help but to speak aloud: “ah! lo’gosh!” His voice was a lilting hiss as it passed through his lips.