Bearclaw Valley we rush the west in silence

Fear spiked the wiry mane of twisted fur along her neck into a wild thing, and her pupils dilated. The features of the wolf sharpened before her. He stood without further approach, ghoulish and ragged, and cut by razored shadow. Dark fur formed a spectral mask upon his face, and twin stars blinked out from the depths, wide and startled.

He could have been something from a fevered dream, but his approach - meek and amiable - struck against his feral appearance and warmed her frigid blood with questions. Why was he following her? Where had he come from? Around them, the wind picked up speed, and kicked up bits of debris and fallen leaves into the riled air. The dust swirled about in a circular wave, and as Nanook stepped forward and leaned, she swayed her tail in lesser mimic of his own and greeted him with a sideways tilt of her head, a question to his presence there. High above, the sky darkened with the coming storm, and heavy clouds ate up the sun and filled the air with the smell of rain.