Northstar Vale Wuthering

After parting ways with Amber and Grayday, Dagfinn felt the need to allow his head to clear. Though he'd left with pretenses to visit his sister, Lotte, he knew as soon as he left their presence that he wanted nothing to do with company - at least, not for a few more days.

So, like any other individual in need of solitude, Dag had taken to the mountains, ranging across them with the difficulty that accompanied being raised in a flat tundra. The cold, at least, did not bother him, but the young male was duck-footed on the steady inclines and steep cliffs alike.

When he reached the long, flat meadow, Dagfinn thought he'd finally found solace - until he began to descend toward it and caught wind of the fledgling pack-scent that marked the edges of the green. For a long moment, the dark wolf thought of turning back and finding another path to take. He was not going anywhere, could not become more lost than he already was. Perhaps, he even thought, it is time to come down from the high places.

But he continued on his way, and when the scarred wolf came into his sight, he gave a low chuff of greeting, ears tilted down in an easy declaration - I come in peace.