Alpine Lake Orksingolerpok

Knowing that he was only a half-day's run from the coast once more, Nippaitok began to call to his comrades from the crags of Alpine Lake. He meant to recuperate here— regain the few pounds he'd lost during the stint of his long journey; perhaps stay through the remainder of this shining day and night— and he reached with out with echoing howls to see if any of Tartok were in the vicinity.

Upon receiving no initial reply, he pressed along the sprawling mountain rivulets, scouring about for a meal or something of equal interest. Nearing the heart of this range, mist from nearby waterfalls began to cling innocuously to the blades of his fur, and he paused a slim opening on the mountain's face to examine the scents that lingered there. The opening was taller than he was but not wide enough for him to fit through. His skull could breach the cave with a tuck of tall ears, but the brace of his shoulders could not go beyond that. He stood like this for a moment, because though his eyes were useless in this moment, his attention was captured regardless by the faint rustling of bats as they nestled against every black wall in respite from the day's glowing warmth.

He pressed his ears forward with a mute's natural preference for listening.