Little Goat Mountain moonlight denetsu

as the nights grew colder and the days became more uniformly grey, stigmata's stores of voracious energy took on the rising properties of high tide. a large portion of his waking hours were spent scouring the jagged sunspires, and so far he had yet to succumb to the weariness of it all. his psyche had been worn terribly thin - fractured, even - during the strenuous developments over the last several weeks, but the warwolf's physical fortitude remained uncontested.

though he missed the duties of pack life, and wanted nothing more than to be needed, there was something overly simple about being alone. something he could enjoy - if he ever dared to let himself think it.

he was ruminating in his solitude, when a story below him, he noticed the progress of a dark she-wolf hunting across the stout mountain's iron hide. out of boredom he watched her for a moment, content not to bring any attention to himself unless he saw reason for it.