The Sunspire Where You Belong

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It had all gone away so fast. One by one wolves had slipped off from their little family until it was just the original trio: Saena, Warbone, and himself. He thought he'd seen Dagfinn a few times during patrols, and sometimes Tryphon felt an odd yearning for the companionship of his fellow Duskvale wolves; yet they weren't there. Finally, after days of living within their territory and having little to no interaction, he had to give up. A part of him remained hopeful though — a far cry from his usually morose self.

And so he traveled. Tryphon kept to the mountain paths and his pace was minimal, as if to leave the vale was taboo. Maybe if he just stayed a little longer...? But in the end he departed, dispersing for the lower reaches of the Sunspire in an attempt to climb down in to the valley. He was tired; the weight he'd put on while living in Duskvale had given him a level of strength and confidence he'd never had before, and after days of nibbling old carcasses, he'd started to shed it. So he came upon the mountainside with the desire to hunt.

When the darkness in the trees shifted, he looked to their trunks with alert golden eyes. When the stench of something reached out to him, he was eager enough to plunge ahead without thought — but his paws hit the edge of the cliffside, and after some awkward stumbling, he slid down a slope and into a deep pit with a thud. Around him were pieces of rotted bone - bits of a goat perhaps, the sinew still attached, and a one-eyed head staring up at him unblinkingly from a twisted perspective.

This was not what he'd had planned.

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