Moonspear a revolution is one spin round

From the higher reaches of the mountain that were still safe to traverse, the sunset was truly like no other. It was seeing it from such a vantage point as the one he had stopped at was worthwhile, the chill notwithstanding. The daytime clouds had given way to what would be a cloudless night and the temperature would also be swift to drop—as if there were really any other indicators that needed to be there to signify winter's arrival—but for now, he basked in what was left of the amber glow on the eastern horizon. The distant barrier mountains across the plains would steal the last bit of light soon.

On the precipice of his thoughts, a certain weariness threatened to work its way in. It had been a long day full of nothing worth mentioning, the reintegration to a more domestic, shared life not quite the same when it wasn't his own to control. Perhaps the restrictions he felt were more self-imposed; it was more than likely in all actuality, a tie-in to a past he could not completely cut away.

In a break of forestry below, his attention shifted to a herd of elk crossing through. From on high they seemed minuscule, nothing more than distant figures moving single file in poor form through the snow. Too far away to be worth pursuing, at least now, but his eyes followed them as they shifted between sparse cover. With any luck they would stay to the valley below and get snowed in, leaving them all for the taking later.