Silvertip Mountain I've got you baby

He so far had no luck in finding a pack, but it was not as if he was actively searching for one. The Doktor wandered aimlessly, taking what assessment of the land he could before he would decide; though as the snows began to pile he felt himself drawn closer and closer to the scent borders of the packs tucked in the Hinterlands, but the Flatlands and Wilderness drew him like a fly to honey. He was quite torn.

For the moment, however, he sequestered himself upon the mountain jutting out, the precipice before the shore, the Hinterlands, the Valley below. To his delight he was far from alone; a woman made her home here, some religious fanaticism taking hold, if he read her howls right.

Tucking his elkskin bag somewhere safe, the Doktor travelled to her, acidic eyes gleaming all the while until he was a few breadths away from her. A crooked, drunken smile overtook him as he observed her pale fur — that sweet contrast — though he didn't dare speak, instead waiting for her attention to turn to him.