Shadow Mountain Hellraiser returns

He looked far ahead of his paws, selecting his footholds with care and even then his large paws churned loose gravel and dislodged fragile soils. He searched for holes in the canopy, for some outcropping or ledge from which to observe the lands that sprawled at the foot of these slopes. He had no love of mountains but he did have a use for them.

His attention was soon drawn elsewhere as he passed by an old scent mark doused in fresh piss. The black wolf took his time to sniff at it and then pressed his nose to the tracks the female had left; the wind far too indecisive and slight to rely on for tracking her.

Practiced in the art, he was not long in locating her. Her pale coat was bright against the greening vegetation and the shadows of their surroundings, the contrast of her inky markings catching his eye as he drew nearer. He woofed to draw her attention to him, if the sound of his steps did not do it first.

"These slopes — reclaiming them?"