Emberflame Ridge i could lie, say i like it like that, like it like that

at the far edge of this same clearing - favored by the wind and blending well into the dark bosk with its tattered drapes - lie the defamed dragoon, stigmata. he had come to further scout his prospects, see what secrets these mountains had to bury, when he had taken up shelter here for the night. he had come far in his effort to avoid confrontation with a nearby pack ruling the creek, and unwittingly drew near the confines of another.

it seemed he needn't make it that far, however, as the thin film of peace that had covered him throughout the night was at last torn with tender innocence by the featherweight footsteps of another wolf. his ears swiveled forward, spying on the pale-sand sylph at a distance. she seemed to be minding her own business for the most part, so he elected to remain quiet, lest he disturb her own ruminating as she had his.

he remained lounged and observant, appearing coolly apathetic apart from the unrestrained, agitated twitching of his  tail. he debated on calling out to her, then chose not to when he considered that it would probably startle her more than if she happened upon him on her own.