Lone Star Mountain In your eyes, there's a heavy blue.

For Kerberos!

He had not eaten in days. Although far from dying of starvation, Talion felt as though he was fading away into nothing. Where previously he'd mostly been living off rodents and leftovers, seeking refuge among the mountains had given him even slimmer pickings. Desperate, considered seeking position with the Northstar Vale wolves, recalling the scent that had clung to the charcoal wolfess' pelt when he'd crossed paths with her in the cavern to the South the week before, but found the land to be absent of her pack by the time he'd arrived.

Assuming they'd dispersed, Talion continued through the mountains with wilted hope. It seemed more likely that he would die alone on the slopes of the Lone Star Mountain as he happened across dead end after dead end, being forced each time to re-trace his steps and seek different routes. Somewhere above, a bighorn sheep scrambled across scree in surprise at the wolf's presence and the yearling paused, lifting his crown to observe its struggle.

With luck finally on his side, the creature did not regain its footing. It wailed in shock as it slipped from a ledge and disappeared, its cries echoing over the territory until they were silenced by the heavy thud on the rocks several yards below. Talion was prompt to descend, salivating in anticipation at sinking his fangs into the flesh of an animal that would provide him for days, and could barely contain his excitement as he came upon the carcass with mindless hunger.

Blood swathed his muzzle, paws and throat as he helped himself, snarling at the crows who'd already begun to pick at the unfortunate ram's eyes and bloodied snout until they moved just out of reach to await their turn.