Silver Moraine he's got an everloving bone to pick with one and all

after thoroughly inspecting frostfire ridge and determining that there are no packs present directly in it — though he doubts a claim would be staked so close to the glacier pack — he moves southwest. the ruins of his fallen empire remain, memories etched into the rough hewn rocks and trees and ice. his failed attempt to try and resuscitate the dying embers of duskfire glacier. the war had hit them hard and he bears the physical scars from reek's ( though he knows not the man's name ) teeth on the side of his neck a hairsbreadth away from his throat as a constant reminder. though it's memories are neither all good nor necessarily bad he still feels a draw to it. the tether to a land that once was his and he is contented that none currently reside upon it even though he is unsure if he would try to re-create what had failed the first time.

the silver moraine is formed of valleys of ridges and ruts. the territory itself is rocky and barren with a barrier of evergreens that appear to line it's edges. it's not exactly aesthetic...unless one's aesthetic is barren wasteland. there is not much life ...except for him, the crows scavenging for scraps of leftovers and ...another. he sees her across the distance between them and gives pause to his steps, considering. they are far enough away their paths would not cross and they could brush past the other. she moves with clear intention and his hesitance grows only to be broken as he lets out a low chuff to announce his presence to her out of courtesy, lest she misses him. even if they were not to speak, tezcacoatl thinks it is better that he not accidentally startle her.