Altar of Twilight show the world that you would eat it whole

for @Hydra!

The morning sun is a defiant oranges-red blaze in the sky where it lingers above the towering spirals that stretch heavenward as if they seek to rupture it, to spill it’s fire upon the lands as it casts it’s morning glow: fiery and golden upon all that it touches. Despite the burning wrath of the sun above the morning is chilled. Chilly enough to elicit a soft shiver from the tundrian as it touches upon his muzzle. It is in his extremities where the fur is thinner that he feels the chill in the air, notes it in the slight white furl that rises from his lips with each breath he expels. His winter coat is growing in, coarse and thick and the frosted silvery mane he bears protects his throat, chest and nape from the impending cold, the fur thicker there regardless. There is a few months of fall before him yet, he thinks, but not enough. His time of aimless wandering must come to a stop …if only to survive the winter. Instincts keep him well informed that his likelihood of surviving without a pack is slim to none even with his youth and inexperience with winter; and Drogon has come to trust his instincts more than he trusts anything else.

He enters the small valley that sits between the twin peaks, a grey wall rising to the sout — a ugly gate that the tundrian has no intentions of crossing. Little does the lion boy know that at night, in the light of the moon, if he were to see it that his whole opinion on the rock staggering and towering rock wall would change. He shifts his position to take him west but pauses a few minutes in as he realizes there is a faint scent of a pack’s claim. He’s still a good distance away from Moonspear but he’s done a ( relatively ) decent job of avoiding pre-established packs ( Morningside doesn’t count because they were on the move when he stumbled across them ) and intends to keep that streak going. He wants to head back to the coast but knows that unless he wants to backtrack he’s going to have to skirt the claimed territory.

For now he does not worry too much about it as he sates his thirst in a shallow puddle he comes across. The water is not as crisp as moving water but it serves it’s purpose nevertheless. He thinks this valley is good a spot as any to catch a meal and maybe get a few hours of shut eye before venturing on.