Little Goat Mountain the poem that took place of a mountain

The night had been spent within the dark forest, the calls of foxes having echoed all around him. Surprisingly, though, it'd been the easiest he'd slept in quite some time. Still had he been forced awake all throughout the night by taunting nightmares, but it'd occurred considerably less than whenever he slept in Wolfskull. He was far from Blackfeather, guarded by a mountain range. He'd been able to assure himself that nothing would happen, that he'd be fine—and it'd helped, but not entirely so. Xan had still been dragged into a state of consciousness early in the morning, and from there he'd been unable to fall back into any sort of slumber. Exhausted and sore from having slept in an awkward position, he'd departed from the forest, knowing that it was time for him to return home. Had his family missed him the previous night? Had they noticed his absence? Shaking his head, the thoughts were dismissed and his attention placed on the path home that he was to take.

When Alexander had broken out from beneath the coverage of the trees, he'd instantly squinted against the harshness of the sun. Always had it bothered him, but it'd become noticeably worst since he'd taken up residence within Blackfeather. Always was he in the dark, which made his eyes far more sensitive to the light than they'd previously been. He'd wanted to seek coverage because of it, but had decided against doing so. The sooner he returned to the woods, the sooner he'd be engulfed by darkness once more. Xan proceeded with the intention of going around the range, sticking close to the base and walking in the shade whenever it was possible. To cross over the mountains would have been quicker, but he didn't trust himself to walk along the ledges and whatnot, his eyes uncooperative.

During his walking, he'd eventually spotted the outline of a wolf in the distance, but the form was but a blur for a long while. After moving closer to the mountains, he'd continued forward, but it hadn't been until he was a short distance away and in the shade that he'd realized who it was. He didn't have a name to call her by, but recognized her—vaguely—as the woman that had been tripped by the root. Why was she there? Despite the fact that she'd clearly been there long before he'd arrived, he was suspicious, as was portrayed in his voice when he'd called out to her with, "You again?" Xan thought that it was the same wolf, but, then again, he couldn't be sure given his poor eyesight.