Silvertip Mountain You may feel a slight sawing

paging miss @Olive :) others welcome!

As she had told Arturo she would, Furiosa made a detour onto Silvertip Mountain on her way back from introducing herself to their coastal allies. She would find out if it was true that the pack there had vacated, and report back to Teaghlaigh with confirmation either way. The day was sidling between late afternoon and twilight by the time her brisk trot slowed to a stop, having arrived at stale borders that hadn't been freshened in some time. She skirted alongside the old scent trails for two miles just to be sure, and then plundered into the territory without further reservation.

Furiosa strutted about, puffed out and on her toes, ready to fight any straggling wolf that might still be defending this fading claim; but she walked like that for an hour and found nothing and no one to confront. Her steam was lost, and it was only then did she realize how late it was on the mountain. The owls hooted fiercely at one another, just as the crickets called for mates and lamented their lives with shrieking instruments. She continued to pass through, her black eyes able to take in more of the beautifully vast mountain paths, now that she wasn't on edge.

She was surprised to discover no corpse, carcasses, or bones. Nothing at first to indicate any deaths had occurred. She had passed the scents of many wolves, but they were all so hazy now, and completely washed away in most places, that it seemed more as if fleeting ghosts danced in this place, rather than having once been home to a very healthy pack. For if a pack had truly lived here, then that meant that they had all run away, or vanished...