Dragoncrest Cliffs To hang your hopes on

The sun had long since set, one of the many downfalls to winter being the early ending of the day. He often glanced in the direction of the pack’s inner reaches, wondering himself what everyone might be doing—were they planning for the war? That was a discussion that he was interested in being there for but, recalling Heda’s orders, didn’t want to risk getting into trouble. Shifting his weight around, growing antsy, he forced his eyes elsewhere and began moving again, desperate to distract himself. There wasn’t much to do in the area he resided, however, and there were hardly any distractions. It was times like these were he missed Freyja the most. When they were younger, she had always been with him, exploring and keeping each other relatively entertained. He smiled, thinking back, but it didn’t last for very long.

To his left he heard the soft crunch of snow underfoot and turned to see who it was—except, when he looked around, he didn’t see anything right away. Frowning, he continued to scan the area but didn’t find the source of the noise until he looked down. There, scampering through the snow, was a rather rotund raccoon, which excited him. Slowly, his tail began to wag and he bounded after the smaller animal, unintentionally frightening it. Thinking it to be the one that he had befriended once upon a time, he kept after it—until it turned around and hissed at him, forcing him to slide to a stop. Staring, he tilted his head to the side, confused. Trying to figure out what was wrong, he didn’t notice the creature pick up a rock, which just barely missed his head as he ducked out of the way in the nick of time.

Okay… so, that must not be the same raccoon.

Keeping still, he watched as the little guy ran off, likely feeling pretty ballsy after escaping the big, bad wolf. Meanwhile, Hvitserk continued to stare after it, frown deepening.